When the Past Meets Present: A Case of Identity
by stanleydoodles
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is content in his life. He has John. He has cases. All until someone from his past walks back into his life; someone who none of the people around him even know about. The problem is, she can be trouble... (Pre-Reichenbach)
1. Chapter 1

**Okay guys! Here's a story that's been floating in my head for a bit now. I couldn't stand it any longer so here's a new story instead of a new chapter! Hopefully I'll be able to do both!**

**I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you guys think!**

Sherlock Holmes smiled to himself as he removed his scarf and coat, his blogger right behind him as they strolled into Bart's morgue.

"You really think there is a case here, Sherlock?" John Watson asked as they entered the cold room, "Blond killed, twin sister with a history of mental distress thinks there are mysterious circumstances, witnesses her death and swears her last words were 'The band! The speckled band!'. I mean really? What in the hell does that mean?"

Sherlock turned his attention to the body, unzipping the bag and grinning at the recently deceased blond in the bag.

"No idea," he muttered with a grin as he unzipped the bag excitedly. It had been ages since he had found a case that at least gave his brain something to do for more than five minutes. And this one… well, it held promise.

"Oh good," Detective Inspector Lestrade said as he walked into the morgue as well, "You lot are already here."

"Why wouldn't we be?" Sherlock muttered as he removed the bag so he could see the body as a whole.

John half rolled his eyes at the typical Sherlock response before turning and smiling at Lestrade, "He means good to see you too Greg."

Lestrade sighed heavily before wandering over to the body.

"I don't see how there is anything strange about this case," Lestrade told them, "Open and shut drug overdose. She was in and out of rehab, sister mentally unstable. Both were staying at a close family friend's who happens to be a psychiatrist."

"And that matters, why?" Sherlock asked as he took out his magnifying glass trying to find every detail.

Lestrade just looked at him for a moment in blatant shock before looking and John and then back to Sherlock.

"You don't think that the fact that the victim and her twin sister, both heiresses to the largest pharmaceutical company in the UK, had to be constantly supervised by a psychiatrist. You see, I would think that that would affect the validity of your so- called client," Lestrade told him.

"It wasn't a drug overdose," Sherlock concluded as he stood up, putting his magnifying glass away.

"Wait, what?" Lestrade asked, "Why in the bloody hell would you say that? Coroner said…"

"The coroner's an idiot," Sherlock told him as he stepped back and looked at his shorter companion, "John, what do you see?"

John looked at his friend for a moment before looking at Lestrade.

Lestrade rolled his eyes and sighed, "Just do it."

John took a step closer and began looking at the body. The woman was blond, pretty, not too many signs of drug abuse other than her thin complexion and sores on the inside of her nostrils. He frowned at the sight.

_Well, that didn't add up._

John continued to look at the body. She certainly did show every sign of heroine overdose. Asphyxiation, tongue discoloration, blue tinged fingernails…

"Well, every sign points to heroine overdose," John said as he found two needle marks right next to each other on her thigh, "She injected twice, or missed her vein entirely."

"You see," Lestrade told Sherlock.

"But," John pointed out, "Something doesn't add up."

That shut Lestrade up. He frowned and looked at John questioningly.

"She's typically a cocaine user," John told them, pointing to her nostrils, "Typical rich party girl. No signs of anything but long term cocaine abuse."

"We found heroin in her system," Lestrade pointed out, "It could have been her first time using."

Sherlock sighed loudly, causing Lestrade to glare and John to look at his friend.

Lestrade sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Fine, FINE," he said as he looked back up at the two, "I'll reopen the case. I just… I just bloody hope you two are right."

A smile spread out over Sherlock's face as Lestrade stormed out of the building. He had a case.

_The game was on._

***&#(*( )*#**

"So, shouldn't we be interviewing the twin sister and the psychiatrist?" John asked as they entered 221 and removed their jackets, hanging them on the coat rack.

"We need to stop off here first," Sherlock said as he climbed the stairs to 221B.

"And whys that?" John asked.

"We need…" Sherlock began before stopping immediately.

John frowned as he walked in to the flat, "Sherlock you okay?" he asked staring at his friend staring towards the couch in the closest thing

John followed his gaze and he knew immediately what had stopped his friend in his tracks.

On their couch sat a woman; one that John had never seen before, but very attractive none the less. She sat on the couch, her legs crossed, designer heels bouncing off her foot as she smiled at Sherlock, her bright green eyes sparkling as she did so.

"Hello Sherlock," she said as she used a perfectly manicured hand to wipe her long brunet curls out of her face. She leaned forward; resting her elbows on her knees, a smile playing on her face, "Miss me?"

John looked between the two of them. It was as if he wasn't even in the room. They obviously knew each other.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked in a slightly breathless voice, that took John completely by surprise, causing him to stare at his friend in bewilderment.

The woman pulled a file out of her case and held it up for him, "I think you already know the answer to that."

John raised an eyebrow at the two of them. He couldn't read facial expressions on either of them. They both were staring at each other, completely stone-faced. It was almost as if they were playing a game of chicken.

"And I think you already know my answer," Sherlock replied quietly.

"And I," the woman said softly as she stood up, her tall silhouette lit by the fireplace as she smoothed out her dress, "would suggest you change that answer. If you know what is good for you."

"Is that a threat?" Sherlock asked as she sauntered over to him, "You know I don't respond well to them."

She took a step forward, nearly a foot apart from him as she smiled at him curiously, "And you know that I don't make threats. I make promises." 

Their gazed locked.

John shifted uncomfortably before he cleared his throat, causing them to both look at him.

"John Watson, by the way," John said introducing himself to the woman. She just raised an eyebrow at him, not saying a word or moving a muscle.

John pressed his lips together and looked at the floor angrily, "Just incase anyone was wondering," he said before he walked over to the desk and opened his laptop.

The woman watched him go with slight interest before turning her gaze back to Sherlock.

She looked down at the file in her hands before holding it out to him.

"This is the last time I'll ask nicely," she told him.

Sherlock's eyes flitted down to the file for half a second before going back up to her.

"And if I decline?"

The woman's lips spread into a smile as she looked up at him.

"I think you remember well enough that I am the last person you want as your enemy," she told him softly as her eyes searched his.

Sherlock looked at her for a moment before taking the file from her and flipping through it as he walked towards the fire.

"I'm sorry," John spoke up finally, not being able to take it anymore, "Who the hell are you?"

The woman turned to him, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him; a smile playing on her face.

"Oh," she smiled, "I'm no one, darling."

John looked at her skeptically as Sherlock flipped through the file in front of the fire before tossing the file and its contents into the flames.

The smile on the woman's face faded as she watched the papers burned.

"I think I'll have to pass," Sherlock said as he turned around to face her.

The woman looked at the floor before looking back up at him.

"You confident about that?" she asked him.

"Of course I am," Sherlock responded, "I always am. You of all people should know that." 

She looked at him blankly for a moment, "I also know the opposite."

Sherlock's confidence wavered slightly as she had obviously touched a sore spot. John frowned at the reaction. The only person who was able to do that to him was Mycroft… who the hell was this woman?

She looked at him for a moment longer before gathering her things off the couch and walking towards the door.

"I told you this was the last time I would ask nicely," she said as she put on her coat and scarf, "And I think you remember how persuasive I can be."

She gave him a smile as she pulled her hair out of her scarf, "It is my job after all."

And with that, she turned on her heel and descended the stairs, leaving the flat without another word.

Sherlock just stared at her retreating form for nearly a minute after she had left. John just looked at his friend in surprise. He had never seen his friend look like that.

"Who the hell was that?" John asked finally.

Sherlock's head snapped to him quickly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"No one," he said pointedly before he straightened himself and walked into his bedroom.

"Right," John said as he frowned at his retreating friend. He heard him going through drawers searching for something.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me what she wanted then?" he asked.

"Nope," Sherlock said immediately as he stormed out of the bedroom and walked down the stairs.

"Come along John," Sherlock yelled back up the stairs, "We have a case."

John sighed and muttered under his breath before storming up and following after his friend.

Why in the hell couldn't he just tell him what was bothering him like a normal damn person?

**^&*& *(**

John sighed and rubbed his eyes as they got out of the police car, looking up at the old manor in front of them. It looked like it had been grand in its day, but was struggling to keep up its appearance.

Sherlock got out of the car as well, tightening his coat around himself and turning up his coat collar like he always did.

"Well, welcome to the therapists house," Lestrade told them as he closed the car door, "Hope the drive out the country was worth it."

Sherlock glared at him as they began to walk towards the manor. He opened his mouth to respond when they heard a car pulling up into the drive.

"What the hell?" Lestrade muttered as an ambulance pulled up into the drive, lights flashing. The ambulance drove past them, through the gate, causing them to frown in curiosity.

"Still think there isn't a case here?" Sherlock muttered as he began to jog towards the ambulance.

Lestrade rolled his eyes before he and John followed.

"Oi, what's going on here?" Lestrade asked as the paramedic got out of the ambulance, going to the back to unload the cart, "Scotland Yard."

The medic looked at his ID, "Just got the call sir. Attempted suicide."

A smile played on Sherlock's face at the news before the front door opened and a man in his mid to late 60's came out of the house, his cardigan and white shirt covered in blood.

"Please," he told the medics, "in here!"

The medics grabbed the cart and hurried into the house, followed closely by Sherlock. John and Lestrade barely had enough time to look at each other before they quickly followed him in after.

The older man led them hurriedly to a back bedroom where a young woman, looking extremely similar to that of the latest victim, was laying in the bed; sheets soaked in a frighteningly large amount of blood.

John pushed his way towards her.

"I'm a doctor," he told the medics as he began to check her for any signs of life.

Lestrade held his breath as the older man rubbed a hand through his hair in worry.

The medics stopped suddenly as they looked at John. Lestrade watched him set his jaw and look up at his companions before morbidly shaking his head.

"Help her!" the older man exclaimed, "Why aren't you helping her?"

John looked up at him, "I'm so sorry."

The man let out a breath in shock as he sat down in the chair, staring at the young woman in shock.

John covered her with the sheet out of respect before looking at Sherlock, who was focused on looking around the room for evidence.

"I'll call it in," Lestrade said, "Its out of my jurisdiction anyway."

Sherlock spun in a circle before he walked over and ripped off the sheet, looking at the young woman for any evidence.

"Sherlock!" John gritted out as he watched his best friend disturb yet another dead body looking for evidence.

"Left-handed," he muttered as he looked around the room once more before looking at her wrists, "She was left-handed."

"Yeah," John muttered quietly as he glanced at the older man, "what does that have to do with anything?"

Sherlock barely even heard the question as he took a step forward towards the older man.

"You're the psychiatrist, correct?" he asked.

"What?" the older man asked as he looked up at him, "Uh, yes. Dr. Royoltt"

"Sherlock," John criticized.

"You looked after who I'm assuming was Helen," he said referencing the woman on the bed, "as well as her sister who was killed not two weeks ago."

"I don't understand," Dr. Royoltt said, "She died of a drug overdose."

"No, she was murdered," Sherlock told him firmly, "Which tells me you are either the one who killed her and her sister, or you are a really bad doctor. But, going by the cuts on Helen's wrists, I'm going to go with a bit of both."

"The cuts?" John asked.

"Yes, John," Sherlock told him, "The cuts on her wrists. She is obviously left-handed by looking around the room. Outlet plugged in on the left, pen next to the journal on the left hand side, shall I continue?"

"No, I think I've got the picture."

"Good, you pick up more quickly now," Sherlock muttered as he turned back to the body, "The cuts on the wrist, both made from left to right with a downward trend; very difficult to do with the same hand, let alone with no hesitation, a steady hand, being left handed. Hence, Helen didn't make the cuts herself. Dual puncture marks, just like her sister in her neck. Someone drugged her and cut her wrists, rendering her incapable of fighting back; someone who was right handed. Someone like Dr. Royoltt here."

"How…?" John began to ask

"Ink smear, under the blood on the right hand knuckled of the middle finger. Only other person here. Would have taken her less than five minutes to bleed out, not enough time for anyone else to escape. Leaving him as our only suspect." Sherlock pointed out.

John squinted, sure enough he saw it.

"Bloody hell," John muttered in amazement.

"Now, motive that's a different story," Sherlock continued, "Family friend of two heiresses. Their parents both dead, and you are the only caretaker of two girls born to inherit millions. Now this estate, is dated; family property? Correct? Let me guess. Failed practice, foil under the fingernails tells me you have a little more than a habit with the scratchers… probably more than that. In debt? Took mortgage after mortgage out on the family estate to pay for the habit? Killing the two girls to inherit the money would be left you; the same money that would clear your debt."

Dr. Royoltt looked at him in a stunned silence.

"Lestrade, tell the authorities. Arrest this man. Case closed," Sherlock said dismissively as he put his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a woman's voice said from the door.

John turned to see the same woman who was in the flat earlier that day standing in the doorway with a smile plastered on her face.

"Who the hell are you?" Lestrade asked as he hung up his phone.

"I'll get to you in a minute George Clooney," the woman said dismissively as she walked towards Sherlock once more.

Lestrade looked at her, completely taken aback before looking at John for some sort of answer.

"Last chance Sherlock," the woman told him, "I'll be nice and give you one last chance. All I need is your signature."

John frowned? A signature? For what?

"I believe I've already given you my answer. Did you follow me here?" Sherlock asked her.

"You did. But it's been long enough. And I have my ways," she smiled at him, "Last chance."

"Or what?"

She smiled at him, "I'll ruin you."

Sherlock scoffed at her, "I'd like to see you try."

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him before smiling, "Fine, your funeral."

"Who…?" Dr. Royoltt began to speak up before the woman turned to look at him.

"Sit down, shut up, don't say a word," she told him firmly.

"Excuse me?" he asked in blatant shock.

"I'm your attorney," she told him, "Pro-bono, don't worry dear."

"Attorney?" John asked.

"Yes, Madeline Everling, attorney at law," the woman smiled as she walked towards Lestrade.

"I'm assuming George Clooney over here is Detective Inspector Lestrade?" Madeline inquired as she raised an eyebrow at him, "The one who lets Sherlock run around with him?" 

Lestrade looked at her in confusion as Sherlock scoffed.

"You're too late Maddie," Sherlock told her, "Didn't you hear, case is closed. All to simple. Plus I thought you worked for the prosecution?"

Madeline turned to grin at him, "I used to. But lets be realistic, Prosecution is boring. Defense, however. Well, that takes a bit more imagination."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "That's how you plan to ruin me? Take all the people who I hand to the Yard and free them in court?"

"Oh," she smiled, "God, no. That'd be too simple. I'm going to make sure they never get arrested in the first place because I know that you missed something."

"I never miss anything," Sherlock told her.

"Like the housekeeper?" Madeline suggested, "Or the estranged half-sibling?"

Sherlock's face fell, causing Madeline to smile even more.

"Freshly vacuumed carpet, and folded clothes in the corner of the girls room. You think that the mildly depressed and schizophrenic girl will fold her clothes neatly? Or the doctor who has a gambling addition will fold them like that? No, that's a motherly feeling. Well taken care of, sick girl who doesn't have any parents? No, that and the fact that I'm guessing she popped out right before the body was discovered? Going by the foot prints in the mud going out from the kitchen?" she inquired looking at Dr. Royoltt and smiling, "Could be her, or could be the estranged brother who did the lawns? Royoltt can't afford it of course so he pays the boy in whatever he can get. Why would you do that if you are a young man who can obvious be fit enough to do any manual labor job?"

"How do you know that?" John asked before he could stop himself.

"So glad you asked," Madeline smiled at him, "Puts more fun in it." She took a breath before continuing. "Tree out front, recently cut with an axe. That takes a lot of power, strength and endurance. Not some that can be generated at a man of Dr. Royoltt's fitness and age. Hence a young man. Doesn't get paid well, so why do it? Unless of course you know that your father was actually the CEO and father to the greatest pharmaceutical company in the UK. I have all the proper documentation if you want to actually take a look. It's a long story, and slightly boring I might add."

"You knew what case I was working," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.

"Of course," Madeline smiled at him, "You think I wouldn't come prepared? Didn't know this poor girl would be dead when I got here though," she sighed as she gazed at the girl on the bed.

Silence filled the room.

"Well, I think I've proved reasonable doubt now, haven't I?" Madeline said as she looked around the room, smiling.

"We'll still have to take him in for questioning…" Lestrade began before Madeline started to chuckle.

"No, no, you wont," Madeline told him as she wiped her hair out of her face.

Lestrade frowned, "Oh, and why's that? Because you said so?"

"No, because you are the Detective Inspector who allows an amateur ex- drug addict who isn't affiliated in any way shape or form legally with Scotland Yard, along with his blogger who is a Doctor suffering from PTSD…"

"I don't…" John began to argue.

"Probably not, but the jury doesn't know that, and that's what your therapist said," Madeline told John before turning back to Lestrade, "Obviously having them tamper and ruin evidence wont look good in court. So… you are going to let my client go until you have further evidence against him, or I will ruin you all in court and bring up every mistake you have ever made, discrediting your every word."

Madeline smiled at the group as she clapped her hands together, "Well, now that that is all cleared up, I'm going to take my client and go."

She turned to Royoltt, "Come on dear, lets get you into some better clothes, shall we?"

Dr. Royoltt gaped at her for a moment before snapping out of it and getting up.

Madeline went to follow him before she stopped and turned around, "Oh, and Sherlock love? This all stops when you sign. Its been 6 years, you have no reason to hold on other than to just make my life miserable."

Sherlock just stared at her.

Madeline frowned at the wall before smiling at him once more, "Think of this as a taste of your own medicine. Its not always fun being outsmarted is it?"

She gave him a wink before walking out after her client.

The room was silent for moment before Lestrade turned to him.

"What the HELL is she going on about?"

Sherlock glared at the empty doorway.

"Who is she Sherlock? Other than a blood thirsty attorney?" he asked again.

"No one," he gritted out, clenching his jaw before storming out, "She's no one."

**So here's the start! Please let me know what you guys think and if you would like more!**

**Review? Pretty please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**So, I'm still stuck in a Study in Three… I worked on it and got frustrated.. Hence, this chapter. I WILL UPDATE THAT STORY!**

**Meanwhile… a HUGE thanks to , kie1993, hannahhobnob, TheDoctorsMistress, ChelGallifreya221B13, TheEloquentWriter, I'msorrymylove, angelloverkk, CassiTTMMMCSSPJ, TaylorRiley17, ironhideandrachet4ever, and Gwilwillith, for their amazing feedback! You have no idea how thankful I am for the few minutes you took to post a review! **

**Anyhow, enough rambling… **

Madeline sighed as she walked into the elegant building in central London that was Turner, McFadden, and Ettinger. She smiled at the guard at the desk before pressing the button for the elevator.

She smiled to herself as she waited for the lift. She had been in London less than 24 hours, successfully found a flat, secured her first client, and worked on what she called her "special side project". Pretty damn successful…

She smiled to herself as the lift doors opened. She stepped on and brushed her curls out of her face before pressing the button for the top floor.

As soon as the doors closed, the smile faded. Who was she kidding? Moving to London was a horrible choice. The best choice for her career? Yes. She was back where she felt comfortable. London was her home, it always had been. She had hated LA and Chicago. She was English through and through. But living in the same town as Sherlock once more? Well, lets just say she didn't think seeing him once more would bring up so many… memories.

It was no secret that they had known each other for a very long time, but she also hadn't seen him in six years.

_Pull yourself together Maddie, _she thought to herself as she shut her eyes, _all you have to do yank him around for a little while, make his life miserable, get his signature, and then you are done. _

The elevator dinged and brought her out of her thoughts as the doors opened to reveal the main partner's floor of the building. Assistants, secretaries, clients, and young lawyers busseled about the modernized workspace.

The smile plastered itself back onto her face as she confidently strolled into the floor that was known amongst the firm, as the 'Lion's den'.

The firm owned the top seven floors of the building, but this one had gotten its reputation due to the fact that it was where all of the partners of the firm practiced. Being Partner in a reputable law-firm was always known as a good thing, but what people hardly ever saw, is that the partner's had to fight tooth and nail to stay partner. It was a cutthroat world on this floor… one that Madeline had taught herself to thrive in.

"Miss Everling," the receptionist said as she saw Madeline walking towards her.

"Its Ms." She told her firmly, yet politely. At an early age Madeline had found that if she referred to herself as Ms., it gave her a stronger authority in the firm as well as in the courtroom. She had always been the youngest partner (once she had worked her way up the ranks) and being a female in a man's world didn't help.

The receptionist smiled at her, "So sorry. Ms. Everling," she corrected herself, "Mr. Turner has put what you requested in your office, and you have a visitor."

Madeline paused and looked at her inquisitively. She had put Dr. Royoltt in a hotel room. Who in the hell was here to see her?

"Thank you," Madeline told her as she made her way to her office.

She had cut all ties with nearly everyone she knew in London when she had moved to America 6 years ago.

She was hoping it wasn't who she had a feeling it was; an over-confident politician who had a habit of meddling in her life.

***&#*( *#() **

John bounded up the stairs to Baker Street, hoping to find his flat mate here. He had stormed off not soon after they had found the groundskeeper Madeline had referenced. As soon as Sherlock had had time to deduce his whole life story, notice the small cut on his hand, and the flecks of blood underneath his nails, not to mention found the trunk full of sedatives he had stolen from a hospital, he had stormed off angrily and been gone for the rest of the day. John had looked nearly everywhere for the dark-haired detective, but it seemed that the mysterious Madeline Everling had gotten under his best friend's skin.

He walked in the door to find the next closest horrifying thing he had seen that day other than a young girl bleed out before his eyes; Sherlock Holmes beating a dead pig carcass with a riding crop on their kitchen table. John's eyes widened in horror as he watched his friend go to town on the pig, various knives and John's gun next to him that looked as if they either had, or were about to take a turn on the pig carcass after the riding crop.

"Sherlock!" John yelled at him, causing his friend to get in a few more blows that were a bit harder than the rest before he stopped, panting, and looked at him.

"Oh, hello John," he said before he twirled the riding crop in his hands before setting it down and picking up John's pocket knife he had lost a week ago.

"Is that my pocket knife?" he asked incredulously, "Did you pick-pocket me?"

"You were being annoying," Sherlock answered before plunging the knife into the pig.

John gritted his teeth and sighed in annoyance.

"Yeah, okay," John said before he reached out and snatched the knife out of his friend's hand and gathering up all the other weapons in sight, "You're done."

"What?" Sherlock asked, obviously not paying attention to a word John was saying as he leaned forward to inspect the wound.

"You, need to tell me who the hell that woman is," John said as he took all the weapons to the sink, dumping them all in and disarming the gun, putting it back in the desk drawer, "Because she is obviously under your skin and upsetting you."

John saw his body straighten with anger before he quickly covered it up, "Which woman? I have no idea who you are talking about."

"Uh, yeah you do," John said as he walked back into the kitchen, "You know, Madeline Everling? The woman who wants you to sign something and is essentially making your life, my life, and Lestrade's job a living hell until you do?"

Sherlock set his jaw and picked up his phone before walking out of the room to the desk, opening his laptop.

"I told you, she's no one," he told him.

"No," John told him firmly, "She obviously isn't no one if she was able to piss you off that badly."

"Madeline has always had the uncanny ability to do that, I'm afraid," Mycroft said as he casually strolled into the flat, umbrella in hand as he was typing an email on his phone.

Sherlock shot his brother a glare out the corner of his eye as the elder Holmes sat in the armchair.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock snapped.

Mycroft finished typing on his phone before pocketing it and smiling at his younger brother, "I simply heard that Madeline was back in London and came to inquire about it."

"What's there to inquire, Mycroft?" Sherlock said sharply as his head snapped towards his brother, "I'm sure you already know everything there is to know about to the topic."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his little brother's reaction, "I assure you, I don't."

"Why don't you go ask Maddie then?" Sherlock snapped, "She always did talk to you." 

John's eyebrows shot into his hairline. Sherlock was obviously irritated with this woman and the fact that people were asking about her. But there was blatantly a deeper history if Mycroft had a relationship with her as well.

…and since when did he ever shorten people's names?

"I haven't spoken to her in six years," Mycroft told him, "Just like I told you I wouldn't."

Sherlock scoffed and typed furiously on his laptop, "Yes, because we all know the British government keeps their word."

"I'm serious Sherlock," Mycroft said in a different tone, that shocked both John and Sherlock, "There's a difference between keeping an eye on someone and speaking to them."

Sherlock turned and looked at his brother for a moment, before turning back to his laptop in silence.

"I think its safe to assume she wants what she always wants?" Mycroft inquired.

"Wonderful deduction Mycroft," Sherlock snapped as he continued to type something.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his little brother, "Are you going to sign?"

"No," Sherlock responded flatly.

"Why not?"

"Because it bothers her," he said as he shot a glare at his brother.

"So this is still a childish feud?"

"Its not a feud. It's a signature on a piece of paper," Sherlock responded flatly.

"It's been six…" Mycroft began before Sherlock slammed his hands on the table.

"OH GOD! Why is everyone so hung up on this?," Sherlock asked his brother in frustration before turning in his chair and facing him, "Its paperwork, meaningless paperwork. That's all this was to begin with and why she wants me to sign another meaningless piece of paper is a massive waste of my time and intellect. So stop taking her side and go start a war or something," he finished before he got up, snatching his violin and going to the window to play.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his brother's antics before he sighed and got up. Sherlock was flipping through sheet music as he raised his violin to play.

"As much as I do adore having Madeline as a sister-in-law, it may be time to end the feud, sign the piece of paper, and move on," Mycroft said as he checked his phone.

John nearly choked on his tea at the words, gaping like an open fish at Mycroft.

…he couldn't have heard correctly…

Sherlock stiffened and twitched so badly that the bow on his violin dug across a chord, breaking the string and letting out a sharp note that sounded like a shriek.

Mycroft looked at his brother for a moment, "Unless of course…" he began only to stop when Sherlock flat out dropped his violin, and turned to Mycroft.

"Most certainly not," he growled, "The opposite in fact."

The two brothers stared at each other, Mycroft trying to read his little brother, while John was pretty certain that Sherlock was trying to kill him with his eyes.

"I'm sorry," John finally spoke up, having both brother's heads turn to him, "Did you say, 'sister-in-law'?" he choked out, before looking at Sherlock, "You're… you're… married? Legally married?"

Sherlock let out an angry breath before grabbing his coat and storming out of the flat without another word, slamming the front door so hard that it shook the flat upstairs.

John was still gaping as Mycroft sighed and checked his phone once more.

"Well, that certainly went wonderfully then?" Mycroft said as he picked up his umbrella.

"Sherlock… is… married?" John asked him once more, still in a state of shock, "To… her? That woman? Madeline?"

Mycroft smiled at John sadly as he walked out of the flat, "He wont be for much longer if Madeline has her way, and she usually does."

John paused for a moment as he was left all alone in the flat once more, to let the information sink in. Divorce papers… that what she wanted him to sign? Divorce papers? This is what this was all about? 

**&*(# &*(**

Madeline made her way to the corner office before stopping outside of the door. If this was Mycroft… dear Lord, she did not want to deal with him right now…

She took a deep breath to calm herself before pushing the door open to her new office.

"Well hello, sexy," a man said as he sat in her desk chair. Snakeskin shoes on her new desk as a fashionable jacket, vest, and scarf adorned his body. His naturally wavy hair had been parted at the side and was extremely clean cut.

Madeline let out a sigh of relief as she shut the door behind her.

"Liam!" she sighed as she walked over to her very dear friend, "What in the hell are you doing here?"

Liam smiled at her as he got up to hug her.

"Milo just got asked to open his own gallery over here and you always know how big a fan I am of London fashion," Liam grinned at her, "… and Milo and I were going to move in together anyway. So I moved as well. Why not start the next level in a new country?"

Madeline smiled at him.

"Plus, how could I have my boyfriend and my best friend in a city without me?" he added.

"You'd be lost," Madeline laughed, as she looked at her best friend.

She had met Liam shortly after she had moved to LA three years ago. The man was a pain in her ass sometimes, but she had to admit, the man a good taste, an honest opinion, and said it like it is; qualities she always valued in a friend. It wasn't a surprise though, he was a fashion consultant after all.

"Milo is getting his own gallery? That's wonderful!"

"Yes, some big time rich Swede loved his photos so he will be on permanent exhibit and taking exclusives for London Vogue. Its like a gay man's dream come true," Liam told her as he sat on the edge of her new desk.

Madeline laughed and sat in the chair that she had just ordered, taking a moment to look around the room. The furniture she had ordered fit the fishbowl office perfectly. Despite the fact the entire room was white or glass, the modern furniture fit right in.

"I have to say sweetie, you have quite a view," Liam said as he looked out the window at the London skyline.

Madeline turned in her chair and gazed out at the city behind her.

God, she had missed this city.

She and Liam fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments as they both gazed out the window at the city.

"So, you talk to 'you –know-who yet?" Liam asked.

Madeline rolled her eyes. _Liam, always the gossip_.

"Yes," Madeline said as she turned in her chair and began unloading the files in her briefcase into her desk.

Liam raised an eyebrow at her, "That's it? That's all you have to say on that? After seeing that man in six years, all you have to say is 'yes, you saw him'?"

"Yes," Madeline told him firmly, "That's all I have to say."

"Oh sweetie," Liam said as he looked at her for a moment, "You aren't getting feelings again for him…?" 

"No," Madeline told him immediately, "No, not at all. It's been six years. Why would I?"

"Because you haven't seen him since that night and there is some heavy history between the two of you dating back to childhood."

Madeline glared at Liam, before rolling her eyes. "History can be forgotten and erased. And I really don't ever know why I drink around you?"

Liam grinned at her, "I get you drunk so you'll open up and actually tell another human being your story. You hold things in too much Madeline my dear."

He hopped off the desk, "I have an interview with an agency in twenty. Once Milo and I get settled in our new place, I'll call you."

"Sounds good," Madeline told him as he made his way to the door.

"Oh, and Maddie," Liam said as he poked his head back into the room, "Keep in mind what that bastard did to you and why you left London in the first place."

Madeline nodded and gave him a brief smile before he waved and walked out of the office, leaving her alone.

She shut her eyes and sighed, trying to control the emotion that was bubbling to the surface. The thoughts and memories that were bubbling to the surface by seeing that dark-haired man again were becoming stronger and stronger.

She stood up and took in her spacious corner office. The room was meant to be upscale and modern, but to her, the room just felt cold, and distant.

…_Just like your life has…?_

She cursed under her breath as she shut her eyed for a moment and ran a hand through her hair. She had to get her mind straight, she had to do her job. She needed to put this all behind her and move on, and that was that.

**:D some of you got it… hahaha. There's a lot more to it though.. get ready…**

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	3. Chapter 3

**A HUGE thanks to all my amazing reviewers! I have to say, I'm actually having a lot of fun writing this…. Its just so opposite of what I have done in my other stories… so I hope some other people other than me are enjoying it!  
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Madeline sighed to herself and sipped her tea as she read through the deposition on her laptop. The sun was beginning to set in London, and after a long day of introductions, meeting, and paperwork, some quiet reading was just what she wanted.

…Granted it was a deposition for an injury and accident case she had been assigned, but the case could be fun nonetheless.

She had to admit there were parts of being a prosecutor that she missed. The part where people didn't think you were the devil, and setting people free just for the pay was mainly the big one. But being a defense attorney suited her much more. She didn't have to rely on police to gather her evidence for her. She did it herself, she found new, and cunning ways to prove people wrong. It made things… well, more interesting. And this injury case looked like exactly what she needed to make a bang back into Britain with.

She had a reputation in her field, one that she had gotten back in America, but it was also the same reputation that had landed her a partnership in one of the best law firms in Britain. Not all the partner's approved of her ways, and Lord knows the judges had no idea what was about to hit them, but she won cases, and that's all that mattered.

She leaned back in her chair with her tea and looked out at the extravagant office space that was the top floor. Marble covered the floor, as a modern look of fishbowl offices and sparkling white walls lit the entire floor.

Practically everyone had left by now, it was six on a Friday night, but Madeline enjoyed an empty office for some reason.

She smiled. She was going to like it here.

She heard a door bang open and heavy footsteps pound as a dark-haired man stormed into the lobby. Madeline smiled as sipped her tea and pretended to be working… just what she had been waiting for…

_Showtime_

She heard her door open and footsteps storm in angrily as she continued to read over the deposition on her laptop.

"I'm a bit busy right now, Sherlock dear," Madeline said as she didn't even look up from her laptop, "But if you would like to talk, leave a message with my secretary and we'll set something up."

"Secretary? You don't have a secretary. Don't be dull, you know I see past it," he snapped as he stood in front of her desk.

"Dull?" Madeline said as she looked up at him, grabbing her tea once more as she leaned back in her chair, smiling at him, "Why Sherlock, I'm rather insulted. I believe you once told me that I was the most fascinating creature you had ever laid eyes on."

He paused and stiffened before saying, "Key word in that sentence being _creature_."

Madeline smiled briefly. _Interesting, he didn't correct her or say he had been mistaken…_

She gave him a fake frown, "Aw, well now you're just trying to hurt a girl's feelings."

"That was not my intention."

"Then what is your intention?"

Sherlock put his hands on the desk, leaning down so he was eye level with the green-eyed brunet, their eyes locking in an unblinking gaze.

"What are you doing here Maddie?" he asked her in a low and dangerous whisper that could only come from years of questions, hurt, anger, and resentment.

"You already know why I came back," Madeline responded, her eyes not shifting from his.

"Don't play games. You could have mailed the papers like you always do, or come up with some crazed way to deliver them."

"The carrier pigeon was still my favorite," she grinned at him with a reminiscent smile before turning back to him, "And you would have burned them."

"I still did."

"And now, you have to deal with them because I am here and a constant reminder of how you need to sign them."

"We both know you have ways of dealing with things from abroad," Sherlock continued as they maintained their gaze, "So answer me, why are you back in London?"

Madeline didn't answer for a moment as her eyes searched his, "I got a job, Sherlock," she told him quietly as she set down her mug on the desk and leaned forward herself, "I missed this city. I missed my home."

They were nearly a foot away from each other now as his eyes searched hers for the truth.

Sherlock leaned forward another inch, "You never had a home," he told her before swiftly, with only a swish of his coat, left the room.

Madeline blinked in shock as she felt a knife being plunged into her chest. She just stared off to where Sherlock had been not a few seconds ago. The sound of the door to the main office swinging shut didn't even register in her brain. She just sat there, unmoving.

Some people thought that Sherlock Holmes was emotionally inept; that he didn't pick up on human interactions and feelings… they were wrong. Sherlock Holmes always knew exactly where to push when he needed to… especially with the people he had known since childhood and had cared about a great deal at one point in his life.

**^&*& ()*)(**

Sherlock stormed down the street, drawing his coat tighter around himself. He couldn't believe she was back. His heart had nearly stopped in its chest when he had laid eyes upon her in his flat earlier in the morning.

Six years…. It had been six damn years.

The fact that she was still in the same room as him was a miracle within itself. When she had left six years ago, he thought that he would never hear her voice or see her ever again. He had seen the hurt, betrayal, and anger in her eyes that night; it was one night in his life that he delete no matter how hard he tried. Most memories of Madeline he couldn't delete. The woman was like virus in his mind; forcing to relive memories of her daily.

He shook his head in frustration as he shoved his way back down the crowded street towards Baker Street.

He needed a case. He needed to get Madeline Everling off his mind; and an interesting distraction was the only way to do it.

He stopped outside of Baker Street and looked around. IT wasn't often that he completely lost track of his surrounding or that his feet had lead him directly home. Madeline's office was nearly a twenty-minute walk. How in the hell had he done that?

… Damn woman…

He opened the door, hung up his jacket and walked up the stairs into his flat.

John sat in an armchair nursing a brandy watching him as Sherlock ignored him and went to his computer.

He shut his book immediately and stared at his friend as he watched him search the new sites for what he guessed a case.

"So," John told him, "You're married?"

Sherlock sighed loudly as he kept ignoring John.

John nodded and kept staring at his friend before shifting.

"To Madeline?" he asked nodding once more, "You never mentioned that."

"I'll leave you to your own deductions about that," Sherlock muttered back to him as his eyes scanned the latest news.

John just stared at his friend, trying to read his emotions, "How long?"

"How long, what John?"

"How long have you been married?"

Sherlock stopped and glared at John.

"Fine," John told him, "Touchy topic. Makes sense."

"Its not touchy," Sherlock told him, "I never said it was touchy."

"Yeah, sure," John said nodding, "that's why you are snapping at everyone and storming out angrily every twenty seconds since you laid eyes on her this morning."

Sherlock just glared at him for a moment longer before turning back to his laptop, and ignoring him once more.

"Right," John said nodding once more, "You want to talk about it?"

"No," Sherlock said immediately.

"Of course you don't," John said as he took a sip of his brandy once more, "You at least want to tell me how you two met?"

"No."

John nodded and reopened his book once more, "Alright."

The two fell into silence once more.

**&*#^*( &#**

Madeline yawned as she walked into the office the following morning. She had slept like crap last night. Sherlock's words along with the scotch she had drank hadn't mixed very well.

"Good morning Ms. Everling," the secretary smiled at her brightly from her desk.

"Moring Claire," she responded as she took a large pull from her coffee and walked towards her office.

She was exhausted. She had barely slept due to thoughts haunting her mind.

Madeline pushed open her door and set her bag down on the chair as she removed her coat.

"Madeline," a stern and finely dressed older man said as he walked into the room, "You certainly look like the jet lag finally kicked in."

Madeline turned around and smiled the handsome older man. Mr. Declan Turner was a well dressed Irishman and founder of what was one of the most reputable firms in Britain. He had seen her when she defended a client in Los Angeles, and strongly recruited her to work for him. He was one of the few fans of her… well, methods…

"I have to say it has," Madeline smiled at him as she lied, "What can I do for you Mr. Turner?"

"First of all my dear, I just wanted to make sure you are feeling comfortable here," Turner said as he put his hand in his pockets, "that you have everything that you require?"

"Yes, sir," Madeline told him as she brushed some hair back behind her ear and smoothed out her dress, "Thank you very much."

"Good," he smiled at her, his grey eyes sparkling at her, "I want you to be very comfortable here my dear."

"I hope I will be," Madeline smiled as she sat down in her desk.

Turner flashed her another smiled before handing her a manila folder, "I have a client waiting for you."

Madeline raised an eyebrow at him, "I thought I was taking the deposition injury case?"

"I want you on this one," Turner told her, "Your expertise is much more needed on this one. Plus, the client requested you."

Madeline gave him an inquiring look as she took the folder from him, glancing at the name, "I don't think I know him."

"Heard from word of mouth that you were the best," Turner said as he walked out of the room, "And I have to say, I can't disagree with him," he winked at her, "He's in the conference room, my dear."

Turner left the room, strolling back down to his office.

Madeline looked at the folder in bewilderment. She had just came back to Britain; who in the hell would know that she was back? Let alone she was working at this firm?

Well… Rumors did spread quickly…

She got up and smoothed out her dress before taking the file with her to the conference room.

Madeline opened the door to find a man in his thirties elegantly dressed in what she could only assume was a Westwood suit, drumming his fingers broadly on the table.

She smiled at him as she walked in, "Mr. Richard Brook, I presume?"

The man stood and smiled at her as she shook his hand, "That'd be me."

"Thank you so much for coming to see me," Madeline told him, "Please, have a seat."

The man sat down, and Madeline sat down beside him, brushing her hair out of her face once more.

"Now, tell me Mr. Brooks," Madeline smiled at him, "What can I do for you?"

The man smiled at her and leaned forward on the table, "Oh, so much my dear… so much."

**Please let me know what you guys think! **

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	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks so much to all the amazing people who reviewed my last chapters! Seriously , you guys are amazing! **

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**I know this one is super short and kind of pointless, but its all setting up for other stuff, and needed… so sorry… **

Madeline sat in her chair, turning back and forth as she thought. That had to have been the strangest client meeting she had ever had. She didn't understand what in the hell Mr. Richard Brook wanted from her.

Mr. Turner walked into her office and raised an eyebrow at her.

"How'd your client meeting go?" Turner asked her.

"Well," Madeline told him as she smiled, picking up the folder on her desk.

"Good," Turner said smiling, "You probably going to go to court?"

"No," she told him as she flashed him a confused smile, "There's not even a case."

Turner's face distorted into one of complete confusion.

"Yeah," Madeline told him, "That's how I feel. Anyway, I can take the injury case."

Turner sat in one of the chairs across from her desk in blatant shock, "Why did he want to meet with you then? He told me he wanted you specifically."

Madeline shrugged, shaking off the strange feeling she had about the man she had met earlier, "All that he told me, is that he wanted to meet with me, and have me on his payroll for when I am needed."

"Needed?" Turner asked raising an eyebrow.

"That's what he said," Madeline told him as she twisted in her chair, "I tried to pull more information out."

"And?"

"And all he told me was that in his business, certain people make a habit of trying to destroy him and that he needed some legal assistance."

"And what business is that?"

"Consulting."

Turner leaned back in his chair, "You take it?"

"I wasn't going to," Madeline told him as she bent down and picked up a briefcase, "Until he gave me this as a thanks to myself and the firm."

Turner raised an eyebrow as she opened the case and showed him the nearly 3 million quid that lie in the case.

"Holy shit," Turner said as he looked at the cash, "Well my dear, I think you just got yourself an even bigger signing bonus."

Madeline grinned at him.

"I believe I get 60% of my funds?" she asked.

Turner nodded as he grinned at the younger woman, "Not even here a full 48 hours and have made more money than the other partners have. I'll see that this stays safe and the percentage is in a check made out to you."

"Thank you," Madeline smiled at him as Turner left with the case. As soon as the door shut, her smile faded. There was something off about the Brook guy. He was nice enough towards her, but the circumstances of his proposal as well as the anonymity he wished to keep gave her a strange feeling. She wasn't sure that she had done the right thing, but the guy was a consultant in a Westwood suit, how big of a mess could he possibly be for her other than using her to cover up a few sex scandals and making documentation to protect himself?

**&^#*( &**

Mycroft took a sip of his Brandy as he sat in the Digonese club in the glorious silence that the club ensured. Granted he was in his own private office of the club, but he preferred to sit here in silence rather than endure the bussle and constant phone ringing of the Thames house.

He sighed and looked back down at his phone as he responded to an email about a threat to the British embassy.

_North Koreans… always had to be making petty threats to attempt to establish dominance_.

There was a small knock on the door before none other than John Watson strolled into the room.

"You know," he said as he shut the door and walked in, "I really hate trying to track you down all the time. You are always on your bloody phone, why don't you pick up my calls when you don't need something?"

The younger man plopped himself down in the chair across from him, as Mycroft just raised an eyebrow at him before setting down his phone.

"Do you need something John?" Mycroft asked as he began typing once more.

"I think you can guess what I want to talk about," John told him as he drummed his fingers on the armrest momentarily as he stared down the elder Holmes.

Mycroft's eyes flicked up to the doctor.

"And what's that?" he asked politely with a smile as he set his phone down.

"This Madeline girl," John said flatly.

Mycroft smiled to himself before looking back at an angrier looking John.

"Whether you like it or not, her appearances have sent Sherlock a little more than over the edge," John informed him as he leaned forward in his chair, "Sherlock's been snippier than usual, not taking cases that would usually interest him, he's stopped eating completely, he's composing constantly, and I caught him smoking this morning."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him, "And that's different than him usually?"

John glared at Mycroft, "This is obviously effecting him."

"There's no doubt that young Madeline has always had an effect on my brother and visa versa," Mycroft told him, "But I doubt its anything that will last long term."

John just kept staring at him as Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him once more.

"And I'm guessing he wont tell you anything about their history?" he asked.

"Of course," John said rolling his eyes.

"Tell me John," Mycroft said as he leaned back in his chair, "Are you asking to satisfy your own curiosity? Or do you think my brother is on the edge of a danger night?"

John glared daggers at Mycroft, "He's bloody _composing and smoking_ Mycroft. The only other time I have seen him act this way is after Irene faked her death."

Mycroft looked down at his desk for a moment, weighing his options in his mind.

"You can't refute the fact that we are bordering dangerous territory," John told him.

Mycroft sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sherlock and Madeline always affected each other in a strong way. He thought it would only be a few days of this, but John's worry was beginning to tell him a different story.

He sighed, "The relationship between Madeline and my brother is a very long and extremely complicated one. Very few things sincerely get under my brothers skin. Of course, you'll debate this fact because he snaps about people saying idiotic things, and has a habit of brooding around, but Madeline was the one person who could get under his skin in a different fashion whenever she pleased."

"This isn't him just being irritated, Mycroft," John told him, "This is something else. Ever since she showed up and handed him those divorce papers… I don't know… its exactly like how he acted with Irene, but different in a way."

Mycroft just stared at John as he leaned closer.

"I need to know Mycroft," John told him, "What in the hell happened between the two of them?"

Mycroft paused and sighed, "Madeline lived close to us during our childhood. She was quick-witted and intelligent, and my brother was obviously intrigued by her. They turned everything into a competition of intelligence and wit and took comfort in each other's company when it was needed. They were close friends… and Sherlock's only friend until you came along."

"They were obviously more than that," John told him, "You literally just told me everything I had already figured out for myself. What happened between the two of them?"

Mycroft sighed as his phone began ringing once more. He glanced down at it and got up before looking at John and smiling, "Somethings are better left unknown and untouched John. Not just for you, but for my brother's sake as well."

And with that, Mycroft picked up the line and walked out of the building, leaving an angry and confused John Watson all alone once more.

**I know… short and kind of pointless, but just know.. theres a shit ton of foreshadowing in this chapter, so roll with it please?**

**And maybe leave a review and encourage me to update both my stories? **


	5. Chapter 5

**A huge thanks to all my amazing reviewers and readers. Seriously, I love you guys!**

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**Enjoy!**

John walked back up the stairs of Baker Street to hear the same slow and sad melody coming from the flat as when he had left hours ago. The music stopped as Sherlock put his cigarette back into his mouth as he wrote down a few notes. John sighed as he noted an empty pack on the floor. He was up to two packs a day now…

…Not good…

"Where have you been?" Sherlock asked as he blew his smoke out the window. Mrs. Hudson would throw a fit if she knew he was smoking in here.

"I was just over at Sarah's," John lied. Sherlock wouldn't have noticed if they broke up weeks ago… he never noticed.

"You broke up with her," Sherlock noted, "Two weeks ago last Thursday."

John stared at Sherlock's back in amazement. The man hadn't said a word to him about it.

"You knew?" he asked in amazement.

"You stopped shaving for dates and looking in the mirror every chance you got," Sherlock said as he put the cigarette back down in the ashtray and picked up his violin once more.

John gaped at him before he shut his eyes and shook his head before walking into the kitchen.

He sighed to himself as the same damn slow and somber song began playing once more. He had heard that song about fifty thousand times in the last twenty fours hours. It was better than the angry noise he had been making before he started composing. Hell, this new one made the song he had composed for 'the woman' seem like it was about puppies and rainbows.

The music stopped just as John came back into the living room with his cup of tea and sat in the chair, beginning to flip through the paper.

"You take another case yet?" John asked casually.

A sharp note was played before the cigarette was put back into his mouth as he sucked the nicotine out of the burning leaves like a madman.

"No," he replied sharply before setting the violin down and snatching up his cigarettes and ashtray and storming off into his room.

John sighed once more as the door slammed shut.

…And Mycroft didn't think anything was wrong…

**&^(*# &**

Madeline walked into the conference room; file in hand with a smile.

"Mr. Hampton," she greeted as she walked into the room, "Thank you so much for coming down."

"Ms. Everling I presume," Mr. Hampton said as he stood up and shook her hand, "Thank you so much for meeting with me! I hear you are the best."

"Oh," Madeline said as she sat down, "Well, they do like to promote me," she smiled at him.

She caught Mr. Hampton looking her up and down as he smoothed down his expensive tie and sat.

"So Mr. Hampton," she smiled at him as she brushed her perfectly curled hair out of her eyes, "I hear you are trying to file and injury lawsuit against Ludwig Mattresses?"

"What?" he asked as he looked up from Madeline's chest, "Uh yes."

Madeline smiled at him.

_God, she hated men sometimes_

The man's eyes flicked down to her chest once more.

_Jesus, this dress was high neck. She didn't even have any cleavage showing!  
_

"Eyes up here Mr. Hampton," she told him, giving him a polite smile.

He cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, blushing at getting caught, "Right, sorry… I just…"

"Why don't you tell me what happened?" she interrupted.

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably before crossing his legs, "Well, I was driving down by Piccadilly Circus and this… well, this ad came up."

"I'm assuming the so-called 'distracting' ad made by Ludwig mattresses?" Madeline asked as she flipped through the file.

"Yes," Mr. Hampton said, "Have you seen it?"

"No," Madeline responded with a smile, "But I will."

"Right, well, I was a bit distracted and rear-ended the woman in front of me."

"Who happened to be driving a one of a kind Maserati?"

"Yes. Unfortunately."

"So, Mr. Hampton," Madeline said as she closed the file, "tell me, the accident was your fault. You have already taken the blame and paid damages. Why are you suing the mattress company?"

"Well, I own an insurance company…"

"One of the largest in Britain," Madeline smiled.

Mr. Hampton returned her smile, "I would like to say so. But I do know that most accidents my clients get into are from distractions that occur for longer than six seconds. That ad, is 18 and is… extremely… distracting to be playing in Piccadilly Circus."

Madeline smiled at him, "Well Mr. Hampton," she smiled at him, "I think we have a case."

***& *(* )(**

"Sherlock!" John yelled as he knocked on the door, "Sherlock you need to come out of there."

John turned and looked at Lestrade, shaking his head, "He's been in there for hours."

"Sherlock, come on!" Lestrade hollered through the door, "I have a case for you! I know you've been wanting it."

Lestrade and John listened through the door, hearing only silence.

"New victim was found," Lestrade told him, "Fingers were found in the stomach."

They heard rustling before the door opened with a cloud of cigarette smoke that made John choke slightly.

"Finger's from the last victim?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," Lestrade told him, "Have you just been smoking in there? How many packs are you up to now?"

"Differences?" Sherlock asked as she pushed through John and Lestrade, grabbing the file from him and walking into the living room.

"I… um… " Lestrade began before coughing from the large amount of smoke.

"Differences. Now," Sherlock essentially ordered as he sat at the table flipping through the case file.

"This victim still had his fingers," Lestrade told him.

Sherlock stopped and looked up at him before a smile slowly began to spread over his face.

"And a happy new year," Sherlock said before he grabbed his jacket and scarf and took off out of the flat.

"Well," John said as he looked at Lestrade, "At least we are getting him out of the house and not smoking for at least thirty seconds."

"He's worse off than I thought," Lestrade told him and walked out after the dark haired detective.

**&^#* &(**

Sherlock strolled into Bart's Morgue with intention in his step. He had had his eye on this case for a while now, but Lestrade hadn't been able to get his hands on the case and the attending DI had refused to work with him or give him access to any of the information.

Now the case was his… it was Christmas.

"Oh, err… hello," Molly said as she nearly ran into Sherlock as he stormed in.

"Molly, new body," Sherlock said as he began opening and closing the doors the cadavers were kept in, looking for a specific one.

"Uh… we don't have a donated one," Molly said checking her list.

"Murder victim," Sherlock ranted, as he whirled around to stare down Molly, "Fingers in the stomach."

Molly looked at him completely taken aback by his behavior… not that she should have been surprised.

"Good Lord," John said as he walked into the morgue with Lestrade, "there you are."

"Of course I'm here John," Sherlock said as he began rummaging through the refrigerated cabinets once more, "We have a case."

"You hopped in a cab before Lestrade and I could follow you," John said as he crossed his arms and watched his best friends behavior.

Sherlock sighed loudly and spun around to face John, "Just because you are slow, you can't expect me to slow down and wait around while you two stare at a wall and drool with your own intellect."

John glared daggers at his friend. He thought he was done with this whole intellect thing. Apparently it all came out when he was upset by a woman.

"THE BODY MOLLY!" Sherlock yelled suddenly, causing the meek woman to jump.

"Oh, err… right," Molly muttered before she walked over and pulled out the body.

Sherlock's face lit up as he unzipped the bag.

"Victim's name is Norman Strayhan," Lestrade told him as he got out his magnifying glass and began searching the body up and down, "Thirty-eight year old male was found in an abandoned flat by the landlord."

"He used to live there?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock commented as Lestrade raised an eyebrow at him.

"How do you know that?" Lestrade asked.

"Because he was the serial killer," Sherlock said as he stood up, "John, these dots?"

John looked at him before walking over and beginning to examine the body for himself.

"Wait," Lestrade asked, "What in the hell do you mean he was the killer? You haven't even seen any of the case!" 

"Seen enough," Sherlock told him.

John looked up at him, "Is this about the paper clippings again?"

Sherlock gave John a look before he rolled his eyes.

"Seriously Sherlock," John told him, "It was from the Sun. Like that is a reliable source."

Sherlock groaned out loud.

"Its still fact," Sherlock snapped, "All of the victims were blond, about 5'8" with brown eyes, and in their early to mid thirties. The killer always left dirt on the bodies, but it wasn't just any dirt, it was dirt with traces of limestone. Limestone which is found in one commonly used item, and only once commonly used item, Concrete. What job requires a lot of use with concrete? Sculpture or construction worker. All the fingers weren't cut off with a knife but a blunter object with severe force, something… like a chisel with traces of concrete per say?"

"Victim," he said pointing at the body, "Finger's and knees are callused lightly, not sign of injury. Expensive hair-cut, nails are manicured, you don't see that in the typical construction worker, do you?"

He pulled out his phone and began typing, "That and the name Norman Strayhan has been posted all over the Internet. Up and coming sculpture who specializes in a particular style using concrete," he said as he showed Lestrade and John a picture of the victim at a release party, standing there next to a smiling blond woman in her mid-thirties with brown eyes.

Lestrade just gaped.

"You solved it already?"

"The other cases, yes," Sherlock said dismissively before looking back down at the body, "But this one no." 

Lestrade just stared at him for a moment longer, "So, the guy killed women who looked like his wife?"

"Apparently," Sherlock muttered, "John, the dots."

"Oh, right," John said as he stopped gaping in amazement at his friend and looked back down at the body. Even he didn't know he had gotten that far on it, "Well, to me, it looks as if these wounds were bigger and the skin and tissue shrunk."

"Shrunk?" Lestrade asked.

"Yes, it happens in extreme dry heat," John told him, "I saw it in Afghanistan far too often."

"But London?" Lestrade asked before Sherlock smiled and shoved the file at the DI's chest and walked out.

"Read your own report Detective Inspector," Sherlock said as he walked out, "He was found next to a space heater. Someone murdered him."

John gave Lestrade a small smile before hurrying after Sherlock, leaving the Detective Inspector alone with the body and a lot of questions.

**&^*(() #**

Madeline sighed to herself as she drummed her fingers on the couch that Sherlock loved so much. She smiled to herself as she ran her well-manicured fingers over the now worn leather.

…So many memories…

_Things really weren't that bad with him were they?_

…_You also left him for a reason… a very good reason…_

She sighed once more. She wished she could erase those days from her memory… that night being the first image she wanted to get out of her head.

…_He's not your Sherlock anymore… he never will be again… not after all that._

She stared at the papers in her hand. Did she really want this to be over between them?

The crazed romantic part of her didn't want it to be, but the rational side of her was screaming at her to end it and never speak to the man again.

_He'll always be in your life and in your past. You know that Maddie. The good things and the bad. _

_He's changed. He's different. He could be the man I loved…_

_Listen to yourself. Snap out of it. You are better off without him. You know that. You can't go through what he put you through again. _

A door opening brought Madeline out of her thoughts as she heard male voices talking muffled before footsteps thudded up the staircase.

She smiled as Sherlock strolled into the flat confidently before he caught her eye and he stopped in his tracks.

Her smile grew even larger as she watched the blond man run into him, not expect him to be standing there.

"Hello boys," Madeline smiled at them.

"You again," John commented.

"Yes, me," Madeline said as she redirected her attention to John before turning back to Sherlock, "I have papers that you'll probably want to sign, love," she told him as she held up the paper.

"Get off my couch," Sherlock told her, "And no."

Madeline smiled and ran her hands over the leather of the couch before standing and sauntering over to him, "Well that's interesting, taking in the fact all those things we did together on that couch."

A blush began to creep up Sherlock's neck.

"Well, I'm certainly never sitting on that couch ever again," John muttered as he walked over to the arm chair and watching the scene play out.

Madeline's grin got even bigger at the Doctor's words before Sherlock snatched the paperwork out of her hands, staring at her.

"John, don't you have somewhere to be?" Sherlock asked as he refused to break eye contact with Madeline.

"No," John told him before Sherlock shot him a glare, "Oh, right… I'm just going to go to that … thing," he said as he grabbed his jacket and walked out of the flat.

Sherlock looked back at Madeline until he heard John shut the door and walk out of the flat.

"Why are you in London Madeline?" Sherlock asked her, "Why now?"

"I told you," she replied, "I want this over, and I want to live in a city I consider an actual home."

"No," Sherlock said plainly as he looked at her.

"Oh," Madeline raised an eyebrow at him as she crossed her arms, "Well, then why don't you tell me why I am actually here?"

He just kept staring at her blankly.

Madeline chuckled at him as she sat back down on the couch, running her hands over the leather once more.

_The damn couch even smelled like him…_

"You have no idea," she told him, "The man who can see through everything and everyone in seconds is completely stumped by little old me. I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be," Sherlock told her.

"Oh, you even admit you are stumped," Madeline said in slight shock, "These six years have made you humble."

Sherlock gave her a look before tossing the papers in the trash and sitting at the table, opposite of Madeline so he could view her on the couch, "I could say the opposite of you."

Madeline laughed at him; that same laugh that always stirred something inside of him.

"Look who's getting sassy," Madeline smiled at him.

"A natural reaction when you are around," Sherlock said as he looked down at the paper in front of him.

He heard Madeline chuckle and brush the hair out of her eyes as she sauntered over to the table and took the chair across from him, resting her elbows on the table as her green eyes locked with his, mischief dancing in them.

"Why wont you sign the papers?" she asked, "As much as I do love this little dance we have been doing, I need an answer Sherlock. It's been six years."

"Six years since you left," Sherlock bit back.

The smile faded off of Madeline's face as her eyes flicked down to the table, "As I remember, you didn't leave me a choice in the matter. So don't hold this over my head."

They locked eyes again.

"Why wont you sign them?"

"Because it's irrelevant paperwork and it bothers you."

"You want to stay married?"

"No. And we aren't."

"The law says we are. Technically my last name is, unfortunately, still Holmes and I would like my last name back."

"Everling is a stupid name."

"And Sherlock is better? I swear your parents named you and Mycroft out of obscure Downton Abbey characters."

"Insults get you no where, Maddie."

They both stopped talking as they stared at each other.

"Well, this has been fun," Madeline said suddenly after a long minute of staring in silence as she got up, "but I have a case…"

"So do I," Sherlock snapped back.

"The finger-eating serial killer," Madeline smiled at him as his own face fell, "I know."

"How?" he asked, "I just got it." 

Madeline smiled at him again, "I've got a guy, who knows a guy. But you always have been really quite predictable, sweetheart. Oh, and don't worry, I'll be stopping by on that scene soon as well."

Sherlock glared at her as she grabbed her own jacket, putting it on.

"Oh, and Sherlock love, if you decide to sign the papers, or want to do this again at my place, I left my address underneath the plate the head is on in the fridge. That experiment is quite adorable by the way."

"Its science," Sherlock told her sternly, "In no way shape or form is it adorable."

"No," Madeline smiled at him, "that's because it comes from you."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he felt his face become slightly warm.

…_Goddamn this woman…_

He heard her heels begin to clack towards the door before they stopped.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked without her playful tone.

"Like if I said no, it would stop you," Sherlock muttered as his eyes remained on the paper in front of him.

"Do you know anything about a Richard Brook?" she asked.

Sherlock frowned and looked up at her, "No, why?"

Madeline smiled at him, "No reason. New office, me just being silly."

Sherlock gave her a strange look.

"Anyway, I'd better be off," Madeline told him, "Sign those papers if you know what is good for you love. If not, till next time Sherlock Holmes."

She gave him one last smile before walking out of the flat once more.

Sherlock's eyes traveled down to the manila folder of papers she had given him that lay in the trash before he got up and wandered over to the couch. He stared at it for a moment before he sat down on the worn leather, and ran his hands over it just as Madeline had done before him; feeling every bit of the material, every crease, every stain…

His eyes found their way back to the stack of papers in the bin before he folded his hands in front of him and allowed his mind to race; a green eyed brunette mainly on his mind.

**:D**

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**Review? Pretty please?**


	6. Chapter 6

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**Alright you guys! Heres the next one! More is revealed!**

John walked back into the flat and sighed to himself, as he immediately smelled smoke. He shut his eyes in anger as he saw a familiar manila folder on the coffee table with the ashtray from Buckingham Palace. He was about to angrily call for his flat mate when a long arm reached over to the ashtray from the couch and tapped his cigarette off in the tray.

"You're just smoking blatantly in the flat now?" John asked as he came around to find Sherlock lying on the couch smoking and staring at the ceiling.

"Is there any other way to smoke?" he asked.

"Yes," John told him flatly, "By blowing it out the window so Mrs. Hudson doesn't murder you for smoking in here…" he trailed off as he frowned, staring at Sherlock's arm, "Nicotine patches?" he asked, "Smoking and you have nicotine patches on… Jesus, four of them?"

"It's a four patch problem," Sherlock told him calmly as he blew his smoke towards the ceiling.

John gaped at him, "YOU'RE SMOKING!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, "We have a case John."

"No, you have a problem with a woman," John told him as he took a seat in the armchair and opened his laptop.

"Madeline and I don't have a _problem_," Sherlock bit back.

"Yeah, by her showing up all the time and you smoking, that's _real_ obvious," he said sarcastically as he began checking his blog.

Sherlock looked over and glared at him before getting up, grabbing ashtray and pack of cigarettes and stomping over the coffee table and into his room, slamming the door once more.

John sighed and eyed the manila folder sitting on the coffee table.

…No, he shouldn't…

He turned back to his laptop for a second, staring at it blankly.

"Oh, sod it," John muttered as he got up and grabbed the folder, going back to the armchair to open it.

He pulled the large stack of papers out of the file and began looking through the forms. They had been cleanly typed out, stating basic information of both parties. John skipped that part and flipped through the pages until he found a copy of a marriage certificate. Both had signed it; Sherlock's typical signature, and what he assumed was Madeline's neat one next to it, Mycroft's signature in the witness category.

John looked at the date in shock; 2002… June 22 2002. He did the math quickly in his head. They had been separated for six years, meaning they had been married at least a total of four before that.

Four years….

John continued to flip through the paperwork. There had to be grounds for divorce right?

John stopped and looked at the form when he found it. The only thing under the usual lengthy ground for divorce (according to his mates from the service) was only one bullet point; 'Unreasonable Behavior'.

Unreasonable Behavior? Nothing about Sherlock Holmes was "reasonable". Madeline obviously knew that if she had been married to him for four years before leaving.

John hurriedly put the papers back in the correct order and back into the envelope, returning it to its exact position before sitting back in his chair with his laptop in his lap.

He had never seen Sherlock act like this. Sure, Irene Adler had thrown him for a loop, but even the Woman hadn't been able to arouse a reaction even close to the one Madeline had roused in him.

John stared at his laptop for a moment before typing her name into the search engine.

Nearly a hundred articles popped up, most of them news articles on court cases. His eyebrows went into his hairline, as he was slightly impressed with the woman. She was a DAMN good lawyer. He skimmed through article after article before he paused… what about before she left?

He quickly typed the dates in to the search engine before scouring the page once more.

He frowned at the page. It was just more news articles about cases…

Wait…

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.

He clicked on an article from late 2006 on one of the most notable cases of the decade. She was quoted as the government prosecution in the case.

Madeline Everling was the person who had single handedly brought down one of the largest crime rings in the UK. He remembered the case well. The Flannery Crime Ring had been one of the most vast and feared crime circle in Britain over the last 100 years. They had a vast reach in nearly all aspects of crime; drugs, human trafficking, prostitution, robbery… Once you were in the "family", you were in for life. They had a vast reach even in Scotland Yard, blackmailing and turning officers of the law into puppets.

She had been the prosecutor in the case, compiling information on the ring, finally bringing in enough evidence to have the heads of the family arrested, and she brought it down. Granted, knowing the fact that she was with Sherlock at the time, he had to suspect they had worked the case together, but still… it was damn impressive. No one, let alone a young prosecutor even had the guts to try to take down the family. John was just shocked she had made it out of that case alive…

The telltale thumping of footsteps up the stairs brought John out of his thoughts as Lestrade entered the flat and looked around for a moment.

"You both ready?" he asked.

John frowned at him, "To go where exactly?"

"Talk to the wife," Lestrade told him, "Sherlock texted me an hour ago telling me you and him would be coming… as if I had any choice in the matter."

John frowned once more as the bedroom door opened and closed as Sherlock stomped out of his room as he pulled on his jacket and scarf.

"Come along John," Sherlock said as he stormed out of the flat, leaving John and Lestrade behind.

John sighed and looked at a confused Lestrade, "Madeline was just over," he supplied as he got up to get his jacket.

Lestrade shook his head as they walked out of the flat, "I still can't believe he's actually married…"

**&*^*^&*#**

"She's got no idea that her husband is dead, let alone a killer, so she's a bit fragile Sherlock," Lestrade explained as they walked towards the suburban house, "So be…"

"Not myself?" Sherlock asked,

"Yes, just about," Lestrade replied shrugging as he pressed the bell.

John rolled his eyes at the two of them as the pretty blond woman from the picture of the 'victim' at the gallery opened the door.

She furrowed her eyebrows at the three of them.

"Mrs. Strayhan," Lestrade told her, "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade from Scotland Yard…"

"Oh God," She muttered, "You found him… you found Norm."

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Lestrade muttered.

"Thank goodness," she told them in relief.

John arched an eyebrow at her. That wasn't your typical reaction…

"Yes, I'm afraid so," Lestrade told her.

She ran a hand over her face in pain and relief before looking at them and laughing lightly, "Sorry, you must think I'm crazy for that reaction," she told them, "But as soon as he didn't come home last week, I knew he was dead."

"Was he gone often?" John asked.

Mrs. Strayhan looked at him for a moment, "I'm sorry, are you with Scotland Yard as well?"

"No," Lestrade interrupted, "this is John Watson, and Sherlock Holmes…"

"Wait, from the blog?" Mrs. Strayhan asked.

Sherlock sighed loudly and rolled his eyes before looking at John in annoyance while he just smiled at her.

"I love that blog!" Mrs. Strayhan said, causing John to smile even more.

"Did your husband have any enemies?" Sherlock snapped quickly trying to divert from the topic at hand, "Because he was found murdered in a similar fashion to which he killed at least ten victims."

Mrs. Strayhan's face fell completely as stared at Sherlock in shock.

"Way to go there Sherlock," Lestrade muttered to him, "Real subtle."

"What…. What are you saying?" Mrs. Strayhan asked in shock.

"That your husband was simply a serial killer," Sherlock told her blatantly.

John sighed and looked at the sky. He was really going to have to have another talk with him about timing…

"You think… you think Norm.. _killed_ people?" Mrs. Strayhan asked in shock.

"Yes, and fed women who looked just like you his last victim's fingers before he killed them," Sherlock told her.

Mrs. Strayhan gaped at them while Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, trying to read her.

"I think I'd like you all to leave, "Mrs. Strayhan told them as she began to cry, "Now, please."

"Yes, I understand that Mrs. Strayhan…" Lestrade began before she slammed the door in their face, "But…." He stopped and shut his eyes before looking at Sherlock, "You had to open your mouth, didn't you?"

Sherlock shrugged before he turned and walked back towards the car, "If I hadn't, we wouldn't know that she knew about the killings."

John and Lestrade gave each other a strange look before following him immediately.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" Lestrade asked, "She had no idea what you were talking about!"

"Except for the fact that she did," Sherlock responded as they caught up to him, "Real shock takes less than a second to register. She shifted and looked down to the left before responding."

"So, she moved!" John told him, "What does that have to do with anything?" 

Sherlock sighed loudly and stopped, turning to facing to them both, "No, it means she is lying, she knew about the killings. Why do you think she was relieved that we found him dead? She's afraid of him. She knew what he was."

"You think she killed him?" John asked.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth turned up into a smile as he kept walking, "We'll just have to find that out, wont we?" 

**&*^(#* & **

Madeline sighed and took a sip of her tea before leaning back in her kitchen chair. She had been going through the Hampton v. Ludwig Mattress case all day. She hadn't even gone back to the office after her stop at Baker Street and it was nearly eleven at night by now.

She had yet to even watch the commercial, but she had spent all day doing a background on her client and his opponent.

Mr. Hampton owned the largest insurance company in the UK. He was a known adulterer and had a slew of ex-wives and a lot of alimony to pay. He was currently married to his fourth wife, who happened to be a famous actress on a fading TV show.

Ludwig mattresses on the other hand, owned by Francis Ludwig. It was the most expansive mattress seller in the UK, but happened to be falling in sales due to a new up and coming company. The commercial was made as a last resort to save the Mattress Company, and cost somewhere near 1.2 million pounds to make and air on Piccadilly Circus.

Ludwig had gotten an 'up and coming' actress who happened to be on the same fading TV show as Hampton's wife, Ginger Hanley. Hanley was infamous for her busty body and giggly nature… well, that and the fact that she had been a famous porn star before being picked up for TV.

Which led her to pulling up the infamous video on her laptop.

She picked up her tea, folding her legs underneath her in her small kitchen chair before pressing play.

Ginger Hanley appeared on the screen, causing Madeline to raise her eyebrows. The busty and beautiful actress was crawling seductively on the mattress towards the camera in only lingerie.

"Why don't you come to bed with me?" the actress said seductively, "So, what are you waiting for? Come see me at Ludwig mattresses. They have the only mattresses in town that will keep you rested all night long," she bit her lip and laid down on the bed, gazing at the camera, "That's Ludwig mattresses. Come and get me. I'll be waiting."

Madeline looked at the screen as the commercial ended, her eyebrows raised at what she had just seen before a small smile came over her face. This was going to be much more fun than she had even thought.

_Oh yes… this case would do perfectly. _

A knock on the door startled her out of her thoughts.

She set her mug of tea down and quietly padded towards the door in her bare feet, looking through the peephole before smiling and opening up the door.

"Well Sherlock, I gave you my address so we could talk, now I am thinking you are wanting more by showing up this late at night," she smiled at the dark-haired detective who was standing awkwardly outside her door.

"Let's talk then," he said before pressing his way into her flat and looking around.

Madeline raised her eyebrows at him as she shut the door and watched him look around her flat, "You bring me signed papers?" she asked him.

"No," he told her as he looked around at the elegant, yet plain flat. The flat itself was elegant with granite counters, and a large fireplace, but the decorations and furniture were simple, as if she didn't spend a lot of time at home and didn't try to make it seem like a home. It struck him as strange, ever since she had finally gotten out of her childhood home, she had made a large effort to bring everything that brought her comfort into her home, making it hers… but this… the only thing that Sherlock knew brought her comfort here was the tea on the table. The flat was cold and exactly opposite of what he expected from Madeline.

"No, I burned them," Sherlock lied as he snapped out of trance.

Madeline smiled at him, "Well that was a mistake. You really don't learn your lesson do you?"

"I thought you were going to show up on my case?" Sherlock asked as he sat down on the couch, which he noted was extremely similar to that of his couch they had bought together.

Madeline chuckled and laughed as she picked up her cup of tea and sat back in her chair, crossing her long legs, "Did I say that?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, "So you aren't, then?"

"Oh, no," Madeline told him, "I most definitely will. Who could pass up a finger eating serial killer getting murdered? I just have a case of my own I've been working on."

"The said Richard Brook?" Sherlock asked.

Madeline's face changed as she got that weird feeling more that was brought on by her meeting with the strange man.

"No," she told him brushing her hair out of her face, trying to cover it up, "I have my breakout case as a defense attorney here in Britain."

It was Sherlock's turn to raise an eyebrow at her, "Breakout case?"

Madeline smiled, "You know I always like to start things with a bang."

"Too well," Sherlock told her as a smile played on his face, causing Madeline's to grow as well.

Something inside of him began to awaken as they were locked in a gaze and he saw Madeline's eyes begin to sparkle like they always did when she was intrigued.

"So tell me," Madeline said, "Why are you here?"

Sherlock just gazed at her. Honestly, he had no idea why he had come here. The intrigue was too great for him not to. This woman had been on his mind all day, and he needed to figure out what he needed to do to get her out of his head once more.

"You left your address," he told her, "I figured since you kept walking into my flat, I would walk into yours."

Madeline laughed lightly at him, "Oh, so this is about payback now?"

"If you want to call it that."

Madeline smiled and shook her head at him, "You always were impossible."

Sherlock looked at the ceiling and shrugged, "I think that's more of your area of expertise."

Madeline laughed, "And here I was thinking that you wanted nothing to do with me after six years."

They locked eyes for a moment before both of them shifted awkwardly.

Madeline cleared her throat and got up, "Would you like some tea?"

"Please," Sherlock responded as he watched her busy herself in the kitchen.

Madeline began filling the kettle and retrieving another cup before turning to find Sherlock standing extremely close to her.

She felt her breath leave her lungs as she could feel the heat from his body.

_Keep it together Maddie…_

"Why?" he asked her in a low voice.

"Why what?" Madeline asked breathlessly.

"Why do you want me to sign those papers?" he asked her as his eyes searched hers.

"Why do you not want to?" she countered.

He just looked at her.

_God, he was so close to her… she could smell him…._

"You lied to me Sherlock," she told him quietly, "That was our thing, and you broke it." She looked at him sadly, trying her hardest not to reach out and touch him, "In the worst possible way."

"I believe you were the one who told me that everyone makes mistakes," he whispered back to her.

"A lot more than that happened Sherlock," Madeline told him.

"I know."

"Six years," she told him quietly, "It took you six years…"

"If you remember, you were the one who left," he told her quietly as he searched her face, "When I needed you the most."

Madeline looked him dead in the eye as she fought off emotion, "You weren't you anymore. You didn't leave me a choice."

She broke his gaze for a moment before looking back up at him, "I didn't even think you remembered what happened that night."

"How could I not?"

"You were out of your mind. You weren't yourself," Madeline told him.

"I'm done," he told her.

Madeline laughed, "I've heard that one before."

Sherlock's face remained emotionless, but he felt a dagger go through his heart.

Her face fell as she looked at him, "Do you… do you want to stay married. Do you want to fix this?" she asked, "I just figured after six years of not contacting me…"

"No," he interrupted her in sharp tone, "I just don't see the point."

Madeline looked at him as his words tore apart the inside of her soul before he walked out of her flat, slamming the door behind him.

Madeline shut her eyes and leaned against the counter trying to will herself not to cry; failing as a couple slid down her face.

This is what she got for inching the door open to the one man who could tear down every wall she had ever made.

The door was closed. She was sure of that now. Sherlock had no feelings left for her, and there was no fixing things. She had assumed that, but seeing him again… brought back feelings of her own.

Now she just had to fall out of love with the dark-haired detective all over again.

Why in the hell did she move back to London…?

**Review? Help my weekend of studying?!**


	7. Chapter 7

**So sorry it took me a while to update this one guys! Ive been out of town the last two weeks and that makes things a bit difficult to write!**

**A HUGE thanks to:**

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**Bored411: You'll find out… sometime… hahahah. **

**Anyhow, WARNING! Slightly mature chapter. Not too bad, but just a warning…**

**Enjoy!**

John rolled over and glared at the ceiling of his bedroom as the violin began playing sadly and loudly once more. It was three in the morning and Sherlock had woken him when he had slammed the door loudly around 12:30 and stomped around the floor before something dropped or smashed loudly and the violin began playing for hours on end. John doubted this was about the case. Sherlock had disappeared saying that he was going to chase down a lead, but he greatly doubted that…

If he had had a bad day on a case, he would wake him up for a late night brainstorm, not brood around with his violin…

A particularly sharp note was hit, touching John's last nerve and he found himself pulling on his dressing gown and walking down the stairs. He had to say that he wasn't expecting what he found at the bottom of the stairs.

A mug full of tea lay broken on the floor, a puddle of still steaming hot tea surrounding it and running down the wall where he apparently had thrown it. John flinched as the violin screeched once more, stunning the doctor once more.

Sherlock Holmes was an expert violinist. The man played at odd hours of the night, but it was always a melody; fast, loud, or mellow and slow… it always depended on his mood… but this… he would doubt anyone in their right mind would consider this music. He kept missing notes and swearing under his breath. 

…Something was most definitely wrong. He had never seen his friend in a mood like this.

"You alright?" John asked, causing him to straighten in shock and pause before trying to reconvene his demeanor and bringing the violin back up to his shoulder, trying to play calmly, not even turning to look at his friend.

John raised an eyebrow at him doubtfully as his eye caught something that explained it all. The manila envelope was open and a pen laid next to it. He glanced up at his friend trying to play calmly as he gazed angrily out the window before he walked over to it. A hesitation mark in pen lay blatantly on the page.

His heart sank and realization hit him. He had begun to actually sign the paper. It didn't make sense to him. Sherlock was never torn up about anything. He made his mind up quickly and rationally, and would do something just to spite someone out of pure stubbornness, not caring how the repercussions would affect him. He had started to sign the paper, and stopped with a single pen stroke, hesitating a few more times before, what he guessed, tossing the tea against the wall.

"Did you…?" John began, choosing his words carefully, knowing the topic would be sensitive, "Were you going to sign your divorce papers?"

A sharp note hit as a string broke on his violin causing him to literally shudder with anger before tossing the violin roughly and storming over to the table, snatching the papers, throwing them down on the coffee table and flopping down on the couch in silence.

John raised an eyebrow at his friend before staring at the floor for a moment and walking over to his typical chair, sitting in it as Sherlock brooded.

Silence.

"You want to talk about it?" John asked.

"Why does everyone _insist_ on talking about things?" Sherlock said through gritted teeth at the ceiling.

"I wasn't insisting, I was asking," John told him, "Its what friends do."

"Who said you were my _friend_?" Sherlock snapped.

John looked at him, hurt by his words, "Fine, what do I know?" he said crossly before picking up yesterday's paper and flipping through it.

Sherlock glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Silence.

John snapped the paper down and glared at his friend after a few minutes, "You _do_ have to talk about this you know. A divorce is heavy. Obviously you and Madeline had something…" 

"UGH!" Sherlock yelled as he sat up, stomping his feet on the floor together at the same time as he glared at the doctor, "Can you PLEASE explain to me how silence means I want to speak about something?" he asked sarcastically, "It obviously doesn't signal in any way shape or form that I would. You argue that this matters, thought that argument is completely invalid. I do not care for Madeline, nor have I ever; hence, this is not an issue. It's a game. And I'm winning. So do the world a favor and keep your damn thoughts to yourself."

Sherlock finished his rant as John gaped at him, as if something had suddenly dawned on him.

"Oh my God," John said in a quiet voice, "You still love her don't you? That's where you went off to this evening, and even after you cant bring yourself to sign it. You actually want to stay married."

Sherlock literally felt his blood boil over, "NO, I do not, nor did I ever. Madeline and my history is a bit more than complex. And if I did, would I do this?" he snapped before he snatched the pen up in a furry, scribbling his name on the paper before getting up, grabbing his coat and storming out of the house once more, slamming the door loudly behind him.

John stared in shock at where his friend had sat. He knew better than to say his realization to him out loud, but it had shocked him so much that it was coming out of his mouth before he even realized it. It was definitely the wrong thing to say at the wrong time; sending his friend over the edge to childish and stubborn behavior, but by God… Sherlock Holmes really was still in love with that green-eyed brunet.

**&^#*( &(# **

Madeline wiped her eyes and put her hands on the bathroom counter, leaning against it as she let out a breath and tried to compose herself for nearly the fifteenth time.

Moving back to London had been a mistake; she knew that now. She figured that Sherlock had put aside feelings for her a long long time ago… she had to figure that. He hadn't even tried to fix anything, or even speak to her once she had left. She had run as far and as fast as she could as that night had triggered more things from her past than she had ever felt. Sherlock has always been safe to her; he protected her… they had protected each other. He believed in her when no one else did, and she did the same.

They had been made for each other, but sometimes even the greatest things fell apart; no matter how great they may be.

She looked at her red, puffy eyes as tears continued to pour down her face before she reached up and touched the fine and faded scar above her left eyebrow as memories rushed towards her at the rate of an on coming freight train.

_The green-eyed twelve year old walked home from school, trying to ignore the jeering of her classmates. People in this town talked. They had been there for not even a week and her mother's keeper had made sure that word had spread. Business was better that way. She just wished that she could leave. Her mother was better than this. She was the only person that Madeline had in this world, but why couldn't she get a respectable job? _

…_Because that's all your damn mother has ever done girl… _

_Madeline shut her eyes at the words as an older boy from her school walked by. _

"_Hey Everling!" the teenage boy asked, "How much does your mum charge to get me off? Ten Pence?" _

_Madeline hugged her books tighter to her chest as she walked faster, hearing the older boys around her laugh. It had only been a week. Why was every town they got moved to exactly the same? _

_She saw the small cottage next to the hardware store. Almost home…_

"_Everling, why are you even bothering going to school?" the same boy yelled, "You'll be a pretty one if you put in an effort. Your dad must have been a good-looking John. But everyone knows you'll be sucking cock for money before you know it." _

_Madeline couldn't take it anymore as she ran towards the house, hearing the boys laugh and jeer behind her. _

_She ran into the house, shutting the door behind her as she felt tears running down her face. _

"_Baby," her mother said as she saw her, "what's wrong?" _

_Madeline was about to reply when she looked up and saw her mother sitting next to a strong and brooding bald man who reeked of gin and cigar smoke. This had to be her new keeper… John's were never out in the living room. They were all the same… always…_

_Fear shot through Madeline's body as she took in the scene before her. Her mother's keeper was never over unless she hadn't made quota or something worse. Her mother tried to hide it from her as best as she could, but she wasn't stupid. The red handprint on her mother's face was a bit more than evident. _

"_This your girl?" the bald-headed cockney said as he looked the young girl up and down. _

_Madeline felt nauseous as his eyes were on her. _

"_Yes," her mother responded._

"_You learned your lesson about being a stickler for a condom then," the man said as he got up and approached her, "She'd let you meet your quota. This pretty little thing could bring in a lot of big customers."_

_The man reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. Madeline had no idea what took over her body, but before she knew it, she was shoving the man's hand away from her. _

_She heard her mother gasp in shock at her daughter's disobedience as the large man frowned at her before raising his heavily ringed hand and backslapping Madeline so hard that it threw the young girl to the floor. _

"_You disrespectful bitch," he growled at Madeline before he moved to strike her again. _

"_NO!" Her mother yelled before the man turned on her, slapping her just as hard. _

"_Keep your damn girl in line, or we are through with this business," He said before walking out the door, leaving the young girl and woman in silence. _

_Madeline felt blood gushing down her face as she slowly sat up, wincing at the pain. _

"_What did you do Maddie," her mother asked her quietly, "You always, ALWAYS do what the keeper says. He's the only reason you have clothes on your back and food on your plate."_

"_No, you can do better than this Mum," Madeline told her mother. _

"_No," her mother told her sternly, "I cant."_

_There was silence for a moment before her mother got up and walked into the bathroom, "Pull yourself together and get out. I have a visitor coming." _

_Madeline sat on the floor, feeling a deep cut in her forehead over her left eyebrow. Most mothers would help clean up their daughters, pull them into their arms, and kiss them… not Maddie's. She was told to get out. That was her life, but once… just once, she wished her mother would act like a normal one instead of constantly making her life a living hell. _

Madeline blinked a few times and put her hands on the sink, looking at the water as it poured down the drain.

…that was her life before Sherlock walked into her life and turned it all around. He gave her a home, a safe haven, support… even after she left, she knew that deep down, that there was still of chance of still having that, but after tonight, she knew all of those were out of her reach.

***&#)( *()**

Sherlock stormed out onto the darkened streets of London, walking as fast as he could, cursing himself for letting down his guard for even half a second with Madeline around. He knew better… she affected him so strongly and in so many different ways. She had to be the only person in the world who could crush him with only a few simple words. He had been so vulnerable, so in need … and she had left… He had made a mistake, but she knew him. She knew that he wouldn't do that in his right mind. He had needed help, support, her… he had needed her, and she just ran for the hills.

He had promised himself that he would never make that same mistake again; never letting another person in that close to him. He was close with John, but John also wasn't Madeline; the one person who he had exposed his entire being to.

Sherlock stopped walking and looked around, taking in where his feet had lead him. He shut his eyes in pure anger at himself as he looked at the darkened park bench; the one he thought at one point in his life, he would remember for the rest of his life. He had tried to delete it countless times, but part of him would never let it go.

"_Why are you so damn jumpy?" Madeline asked as she laughed at him, grabbing his arm as his hands were shoved into his pockets. _

"_Nothing," he told her, "I'm fine." _

_He wasn't fine. He had never been so damn nervous in his life. Not even her touch was calming him. Warmth and sparks flew throughout his body as they always did, but calm was not the word that he would place on the situation. _

"_You're acting weird," Madeline said as she raised an eyebrow at him, like she always did when she was on to him, "I know you better than anyone else, love. What's wrong?"_

"_I told you, nothing," Sherlock responded as they continued to stroll through the park. _

"_You're wearing a tie, and we ate brunch. I have known you since we were thirteen, and I never seen you do either of those things by choice," Madeline called him out as Sherlock steered her towards the bench that he knew she loved. _

"_You deserve something nice," Sherlock concluded as he held out his hand towards the bench, indicating that he wanted her to sit down. _

_A smile played on her face as her eyes lit up, "This bench…" she said as she shook her head and smiled at the memories that came with this certain bench in the middle of central London, facing what she considered the be the most beautiful part of the park, the rose garden._

"_You know," she continued as she sat, and he sat down next to her, "if I didn't know you any better, Mr. Holmes, I would have you pegged for a serious romantic."_

_Sherlock didn't respond, he just twitched and fingered the small velvet box he had in his pocket, feeling Madeline's sharp green eyes on him as he stared at the cement pathway debating if he could actually even do this. _

_A soft hand rested itself on his leg, bringing him out of his thoughts as his blue eyes locked with hers. _

"_I love you," she told him quietly, "We don't keep secrets Sherlock. We don't judge each other. It's been that way forever. Don't change it now." She brought a hand up, running it down the side of his face, running her thumb over his cheek, cocking her head to the side slightly like she always did, " You know I could never love you any less."_

_He took a deep breath, as he looked at the gorgeous woman bedside him. Love. He loved her… he had since he was fourteen…_

_He slowly pulled the velvet box out of his pocket and fiddled with it slightly as he tried to turn his brain back on. _

"_I… I…" He stuttered, as she frowned at the box, trying to figure out what was going on. _

…_God what was going on? He had never stuttered…_

"_I wanted you to have something nice," he told her, cursing himself for not remembering the speech he had prepared and ran over nearly twelve thousand times in his head, "I know we are still young, and not to marrying age as some would say, but I love you. You taught me how to love…"_

_Madeline just sat, staring at the box as he prayed that she got the jist of what he was trying to say. _

…_Why was this so damn hard?_

"_Are you asking me… to marry you?" she asked in slight shock. _

"_Yes," he said as he held the box out to her for her to take. He knew he was supposed to get down on bended knee and open the box, but that wasn't going to happen right now. He doubted he could even move anything in his body. _

_She shakily took the small box and opening it to find a large, elegant, and antique looking ring that had once belonged to his great-great aunt and he had inherited upon his birth. _

"_You are the one person I trust with my life. You are my best friend, and I love you. I know my life would be incomplete without you. You saved me at my darkest hour… and I owe you more than just my life…" he rambled looking at the ground, praying that she would just say something, and cursing himself for even doing this stupid, stupid thing. _

_A hand on his face, turning him towards her surprised him out of his ramblings and thoughts, giving him a small window of consciousness before her lips met his softly, wiping his brain blank once more. She kissed him tenderly before she pulled back, tears streaming down her face as she smiled at him, that happy sparkle dancing in her emerald green eyes._

"_Yes," she told him, "A million times over, yes."_

_Shock shot through him. She was actually agreeing to marry him?_

_A smile began to spread over his face as it dawned on him; she actually agreed to marry him._

_He kissed her happily once more, causing her to laugh into his lips and wrap her arms tightly around him as he peppered her with kisses on that park bench, not caring who saw, or what people thought. _

_He pulled back and looked at her, wiping her tears off her face as she smiled at him. Nothing… and he meant nothing, could make him happier at this moment as he took the ring out of the box and placed it on her finger. _

_She was his… forever and always… that's all he ever needed. _

He glared angrily at the bench. Why couldn't she leave his mind? He had deleted her time and time again, and yet she never left his thoughts.

It was over. She had left. Her point had been clear.

So why in the hell wouldn't she leave his goddamn mind?

**Thoughts on the story are much appreciated! I know its confusing as I haven't really exposed too much about them, but I would really appreciate any thoughts!  
**

**More on the cases and maybe Jim next time?  
**

**Review?**


	8. Chapter 8

**You guys are seriously amazing! Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed! I love feedback and I am so glad a few of you are enjoying this story! I actually am quite happy with it so far! So I appreciate the encouragement!  
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**Gwilwillith: that they are :D  
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**Here's a nice long one for you guys!**

**Enjoy!**

Madeline sighed and tried to push back her exhaustion as she strolled into the court building. It was the morning of the preliminary and she knew she should have gotten more sleep, but damn Sherlock Holmes and her memories for keeping her awake all night.

She needed him out of her system, she had to focus.

She knew she had to go through with the divorce. It was the only thing that could happen after what happened between them all those years ago… but being back here? Seeing him again? The feelings resurging?

GOD, why was it so much easier when she was half way across the world?

What he did… She couldn't fall for him again. It was over. She had to accept what he did was unforgivable and it would only get worse. No matter how much she wanted to believe he was done with that part of his life.

…_People never change Maddie… you know that better than anyone. _

"Madeline Holmes," a rich English accent said from behind her.

Madeline wiped her hair out of her face and put on the pained smile that she was so good at faking before slowing her pace and turning to see the handsome man with a charming grin and three-piece suit he was infamous for walking towards her.

…_of Bloody course…. Ethan Harking…_

"Its Everling now, Ethan," she told the man as she looked at him "You know that."

"So, the rumors are true," Ethan smiled at her as he looked her up and down, "You are single and back in London, and now on the right side of a court case."

"The divorce isn't final," she told him politely before she continued walking towards her courtroom, "And I got bored with prosecution."

Ethan laughed before following her, matching her pace once more.

"Who doesn't?" Ethan said with a smile, "Glad you left at the time you did though. that husband of yours went and got himself a boyfriend and internet fame you used to try so hard to avoid."

Madeline tossed her head back and laughed, "You mean John Watson? Haha no. Sherlock Holmes is in no way gay. Trust me. I did used to sleep with the man."

"So you aren't currently?" Ethan asked with a smile, picking up on her words, "His loss, my gain."

"Always the dirt bag attorney, aren't you, Ethan?" Madeline said rolling her eyes and stopping to look him dead in the eye, "And like I said, the divorce isn't final."

"After you left six years ago?" Ethan asked cocking an eyebrow at her, "How long does it take to sign a paper again?"

"I don't need this before my first case back, Ethan," Madeline sighed and rolled her eyes before she kept walking once more.

"Wait, Madeline," Ethan said as he grabbed her arm gently, stopping her from walking away from him, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh yeah, Ethan," Madeline asked staring at him, "What was your intent then?"

"You can't blame me for trying," Ethan smiled at her as he shrugged.

Madeline narrowed her eyes at him before she gave him a snarky smile, "And every other time I turned you down, didn't give you an answer?"

Ethan smiled at her even more, "You always were a ball buster, Maddie."

"Its Madeline," she corrected.

Ethan sighed as he looked at the floor and back up at her, "Good to see you back her Madeline. And I'm even more glad that I won't be going up against you in the courtroom."

Madeline chuckled to herself as Ethan gave her one last smile and a wave before walking towards his courtroom.

Madeline rolled her eyes and shook her head before continuing onto her own courtroom.

She just had to get through this day….

**&^ *(&() *&!**

John raised an eyebrow as Sherlock stormed into the flat after being out all night. He just stayed silent as he looked back down at his paper and let his friend storm angrily once more.

"Lestrade called," John finally said after a few moments, "He got a warrant to search the Strayhan's house."

Sherlock stopped storming immediately as he backtracked to look at the army doctor.

"When?" he asked.

"About an hour or two ago," John told him as he flipped through the paper, "he called you. But you left your phone here."

Sherlock stared at him for a moment or two, before grabbing his jacket and scarf before walking out once more.

John just sighed and looked up at the closed door.

….

The door opened once more and Sherlock poked his head in.

"You coming?" Sherlock asked.

"I didn't realize I was invited," John said as he shut the paper and stood, grabbing his jacket.

"Why wouldn't you be invited?" Sherlock asked, looking sincerely confused.

"Oh, I don't know," John commented sarcastically, "You just keep running off by yourself in the middle of the night."

"So…"

"Never bloody mind," John growled as they flagged down a cab.

***(& #(*&# (*  
**

Madeline sat below her client as the courtroom was called to order. Everyone was staring at her as they all stood for the judge to enter.

She smiled to herself as the judge stared at her. She had gone against every British tradition of refusing to wear the robe and wig. She never thought that she would ever get this many stares for wearing a dress instead of her robe.

"Be seated," the judge told them all before he put on his glasses and looked down at the paper in front of him, "Miss Everling," the judge said with displeasure, "You are aware that tradition and standards in UK have not changed with your time in America?"

"Yes, your honor," Madeline told him, "I am well aware. But I would like to point out that there is no law, or circumstance that orders that I _have_ to wear the traditional wig and robes. I prefer this."

She smiled at him politely as whispers filled the crowd above.

The judge stared her down for a moment before removing his glasses and looking at her intently.

"I have heard rumor of your shenanigans in America, Miss Everling. I want you to know, that they will not be tolerated in this court or in the UK. The fact that you find amusement in yanking on the chain of the law blows my mind as you were such an ambitious young prosecutor just a few years ago. I just pray that you do realize that this kind of behavior is unprofessional and unacceptable."

"Show me the law and the clause that states that I have to wear those horrible itchy things, and I will," she stated simply, "Until then, I suggest we stop wasting the tax-payers money and continue on with the preliminary hearing."

The judge stared at her for a moment before putting his glasses back on, "Thin ice Miss Everling. You have not spent five minutes in my courtroom and you are already on extremely thin ice."

"I like to play with danger your honor," she quipped back.

"Apparently," the judge said with annoyance as he flipped through the file.

Madeline felt eyes on her as she turned to see the prosecutor gaping at her as if she had lost her mind.

She just grinned at him even more.

"Okay," the judge said looking back up at the attorneys, "The defendant Mr. Richard Hampton suing Ludwig Mattresses in the amount of 1.1 million pounds for damages. Is that correct?"

Madeline looked up at Hampton and nodded.

"Yes, your honor," Hampton told him.

"You do realize that that is a large sum of money Mr. Hampton?" the judge asked.

"And the purpose of a preliminary trail is for you to determine if there is enough evidence to go to trail, not to determine whether or not it is worthy in your mind, or decide a ruling," Hampton told the judge.

The judge looked at him for a moment before looking down at a smiling Madeline before scoffing and shaking his head, "Miss Everling has prepped you well. And now treading on even thinner ice."

Madeline just kept smiling politely and brushed her hair out of her face.

…_.this was so much better than prosecution…_

"Let's get this thing over with," the judge sighed, "Miss Everling, why is your client suing?"

Madeline stood and smoothed out her dress, "Mr. Hampton is pressing charges against Ludwig mattresses in lue of their extremely distracting advertisement playing in Piccadilly Circus."

"Objection," the prosecutor, a frail looking man Madeline hadn't seen before said as he stood up, "the term 'extremely distracting' is leading."

"It's why we are here, isn't it?" Madeline countered.

"Order!" the judge said as he banged the gavel down, shutting Madeline and the prosecutor up immediately.

"Can we get on with this without you two objecting?" the judge asked before setting down his gavel, "Mr. Tompkins, make your case."

"Mr. Hampton here is a known adulterer and sex-addict…"

"Seriously?" Madeline asked as she stood, "Objection! Medical proof?"

"Denied," the judge said as he looked at the prosecutor, "Continue Mr. Tompkins."

"Just because he was too busy watching the screen and wrecked a one of a kind Maserati, the same one he had paid off the damages to, doesn't mean that Ludwig mattresses is at fault. By definition, the driver, is at fault."

"Objection," Madeline said once more, "In Hamilton vs. Bernard, the court ruled that distractions that are ruled subsumable by a court, can wave the fault of the driver behind the wheel."

"Thank you Miss Everling for doing your homework," the judge told her, "Overruled counselor."

"Even so," Tompkins continued, "It is not the fault of an advertisement for an accident." 

"And that is what we will figure out," the judge said as he banged his gavel down, "Call your first witness Mr. Tompkins."

***#()*)# ( **

"Mr. Hamilton," Tompkins said as Madeline watched her client in the witness stand, "Why don't you take us through what happened that night?"

"I, um…" he trailed off and looked at Madeline, who calmly smiled at him, "I was um, driving through Piccadilly Circus when my windows were down. I was paying attention to the road when that commercial came on…"

"The commercial for Ludwig Mattresses?" Tompkins asked.

"Yes," Hamilton told him, "It, needless to say, caught my attention and I hit the car in front of me."

"So, you blame a commercial, meant to capture attention for your accident?" Tompkins asked.

"Objection," Madeline said as she stood, "leading the witness."

"Withdrawn," Tompkins said as he stepped back and paced a few steps before continuing, "Is it true, that you are in your fourth marriage?"

"Objection!" Madeline sighed standing once more, really beginning to hate this douchebag lawyer, "Relevancy?"

"Trying to put the correct light on the witness, your honor. It is important to my argument, I assure you."

"Overruled Miss Everling," the judge said as he looked over at the witness box, "Answer the question Mr. Hamilton."

"Yes," he responded.

"And its true that the reason behind your last three divorces and numerous other relationships was due to affairs?"

Hamilton looked up and shut his eyes before sighing, "Yes."

"And that your therapist has diagnosed you as, and I quote," Tompkins said as he picked up a paper in an evidence bag, "narcissistic sex addict."

"Objection!" Madeline said in outrage, "Badgering the witness and illegal tampering!"

"The statement is open evidence from his last divorce and was submitted by the witness in that case, when he filed for divorce," Tompkins told her with a smile as he handed the papers to the judge.

"I did not receive a copy of that," Madeline told the judge.

"Well, you will now Miss Everling," the judge told her, "the evidence is accepted."

Madeline sighed and shut her eyes as she wrote angrily on her legal pad.

_How in the HELL did Hamilton not tell her that? How had she missed that?_

…_.because a certain someone is on your mind…_

_Focus Maddie… _

"Miss Everling?" the judge's voice said coming through her thoughts, causing her head to snap up, seeing the Tompkins and the judge staring at her.

"Your witness," the judge told her.

Madeline cleared her throat and smiled at him, willing her brain to focus before she stood up.

"Mr. Hamilton, you own an insurance company, correct?" she asked.

"Yes, one of the largest in the UK."

"And can you inform the court on the results of your company's latest statistical analysis of accidents?" Madeline asked, handing him a highlighted paper.

Hamilton looked at her for a moment before looking back down at the paper and reading, "'statistically an accident is more 80% more likely to happen when the driver's attention is removed from driving for more than six seconds.'"

"Eighty percent?" Madeline reiterated as she nodded and handed the paper to the judge.

"And do you know how long the ad that Ludwig mattresses is?" she asked.

"No," Hamilton replied.

"Twelve seconds," Madeline replied, "Twelve seconds, playing by one of the busiest streets in London…"

"Objection!" Tompkins said standing, "The advertisement is meant for people walking on the street, not automobile drivers."

"So putting it on a busy street on a massive screen and assuming drivers wont look at it is an actual legal argument?" Madeline asked.

"Order," the judge said banging his gavel once more.

"Move on with your point Miss Everling," the judge told her.

"A commercial, meant to capture the attention of everyone, is what distracted you?"

"Yes," Hamilton responded.

"Objection," Tompkins said once more, "By that argument, any commercial or advertisement could be responsible and the fault doesn't lie with Ludwig mattresses!"

"He has a point Miss Everling," the judge said looking at her.

Madeline just smiled at him confidently, "Then I would like to call my first witness to the stand."

**&^%#&* ***

Sherlock and John piled out of the cab at the front of the Strayhan house that looked far more like crime scene than a suburban family home.

"Guess he started without us," John quipped as ducked under the tape and walked into the house.

"Hey freak, Watson," Donovan greeted as she looked at the both of them with distain.

"How goes the affair?" Sherlock commented with smugness as they walked past her glare, "Well, by the smell of your shampoo."

Donovan rolled her eyes and sighed angrily before stomping off once more.

"You can't play nice for once?" John asked him quietly as they made their way into the house.

"Obviously not," Sherlock smiled to himself as they found a distraught Mrs. Strayhan said as she sat in the armchair.

"Bout time you lot got here," Lestrade commented as he walked in the room from the kitchen, "We've been tearing this place apart all morning." 

"Norm didn't do anything!" Mrs. Strayhan said as she looked up at them, "This is pure harassment."

"Call your lawyer then," Lestrade told her, "We have a warrant to tear this place apart."

"He's dead," Mrs. Strayhan cried, "Why cant you just leave me to greave?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her as he watched Mrs. Strayhan for a moment, catching her glancing out at the back yard.

"You found anything yet?" John asked as Sherlock kept staring at Mrs. Strayhan, watching with interest as she habitually kept glancing at a stump in the back yard.

"No, nothing yet," Lestrade said quietly before turning to Sherlock, "Are you sure this guy did it?"

"No," Sherlock muttered, "But the evidence is here."

Lestrade and John looked at him quizzically.

"What?" John asked.

"Backyard," Sherlock said, looking back at Lestrade, "Have you searched the backyard? Specifically by that stump?"

"Uh… no, why?" Lestrade asked.

"Because the wife knows that something is there," Sherlock told him as he looked back at the wife.

***&# *(&(#* **

Madeline smiled at the shocked faces of the judge, small crowd, Tompkins, and her own client as her witness took the stand.

"Please state your name for the court, Madeline smiled at the woman everyone in the court was gaping at.

"Ginger Hanley," she said, leaning forward and giving the court a great view of her large chest.

"Perfect," Madeline smiled, "Miss Hanley, you star in the ad by Ludwig mattresses?"

She giggled and twirled in the chair lightly, "Yes, you've seen it?"

Madeline dropped her head and laughed, "I think everyone in London has seen that ad Miss Hanley."

Ginger twirled her hair and giggled once more.

"So, why did you do the ad in the first place?" Madeline asked.

"The money," Ginger told her simply, "I wanted to do something where I kept my clothes on for once."

"Would you say that you specialize in sexual provocation?" Madeline asked as she turned her back to the witness stand.

Ginger Hanley smiled, knowing that that was the cue to begin what they had talked about earlier, and began unbuttoning her shirt in the middle of the courtroom as Tompkins gaped in horror.

"My agent has told me that many times. I tend to get hired to bring on a certain…"

"OBJECTION!" Tompkins yelled as the judge was far too busy, staring at the witness, currently on the stand in only her red bra, "The witness is disrobing!"

"Oh my goodness," Madeline said as she turned around, "Miss Hanley, I did not mean for an example."

"oh," Ginger said as she pulled her shirt back on, covering herself up.

"Thank you," Madeline smiled at her before turning her back once more, "Now, can you explain to me how you believe that this provocation is used?"

As soon as Madeline's back was turned once more, Ginger took her shirt off and began showing off her breast and jumping up and down; causing an up roar of laughter, and absurd gasps, while Madeline kept talking, ignoring the talk behind her.

"YOUR HONOR!" Tompkins yelled as the judge was far too busy staring at the young woman.

"Fine," the judge sighed, banging his gavel, "Miss Hanley, you need to leave. I find you in contempt of court."

Ginger smiled at him and pulled on her shirt while leaving quietly with the bailiff.

Madeline turned around and stared at the judge in sarcastic surprise, "I am so sorry your honor."

"This is ridiculous!" Tompkins told the judge, "She put her witness up to this!"

Madeline gaped at Tompkins in offense, "I most certainly did not!"

"Order!" the judge told them, "Miss Everling, if I find a shred, and I mean even a _shred_ of evidence that you told your witness to do that, I will have you disbarred. Am I clear."

"Your honor," Madeline told him as she calmly wiped her hair out of her face, "I am completely offended that you think that I am that unprofessional that I would put my witness up to something like that."

"I've heard rumors of your practice in America, Miss Everling," the judge told her sternly, "I wouldn't put it past you for a moment…. No matter how much I enjoyed it," he muttered.

Madeline covered up a laugh as Tompkins gaped in horror.

"Continue your argument Miss Everling," the judge told her.

"Of course your honor," she said as she took a deep breath, addressing the court, "I would like to apologize for the absurd behavior of my last witness. She tends to get a bit carried away at times," she smiled, "But let's focus on what she had to say. When asked how the agency and Ludwig Mattresses used her sexualization…" Madeline trailed off frowning before she smiled and shook her head, "I am so sorry. This never happens, but I am drawing a complete blank. I'm so sorry, can the court reporter, please read back what Miss Hanley said on the stand?"

All eyes went to the petite woman in the corner of the courtroom, typing away.

"Uh… I'm sorry," she said meekly, "I didn't get it. I was… distracted."

Madeline looked at her and frowned, "Distracted?"

She turned to the judge, "Your honor, do you think we can get Miss Hanley back in here?"

"Absolutely not Miss Everling."

Madeline turned and nodded before looking at Tompkins, "Mr. Tompkins, you must have been listening. Do you recall what Miss Hanley said?"

Tompkins glared at her, knowing exactly what she was pulling.

"Your Honor?" she asked.

The judge shifted awkwardly, giving her her answer.

"Well, it seems that everyone was distracted by Miss Hanley's actions, which were, extremely similar to that of the ad. And if we were distracted in court, what about people driving a car next to the larger than life size ad in Piccadilly Circus?" Madeline told the court.

"Objection!" Tompkins said, "Proof that she lead the witness."

"I am merely making an argument in lue of losing my witness," Madeline argued, "Just because I am right, doesn't mean it should be a black mark on my legal record." 

"Order!" the judge said as he frowned at the two lawyers, "Miss Everling is correct Mr. Tompkins. She makes an argument based on what did occur in this courtroom, as suspicious as I might be, there is enough evidence to go to trial, and might I suggest, your client make a settlement before Miss Everling takes you to the cleaner in court."

Madeline smiled to herself as Tompkins gaped.

_Damn good way to start a career in London._

…_.She was back…._

**&^#* &(*# **

Sherlock nearly twitched out of his skin with eagerness as they watched the crime scene techs and Anderson dig by the stump.

"You sure there is something here?" John asked him.

"I'm always sure, John," he replied.

"SIR!" a voice called catching the attention of Lestrade, Sherlock and John.

They followed the voice to the garden shed, where a young officer was pale and nearly about to throw up as he had opened on of the pruning trunks.

"Hobbs?" Lestrade inquired.

"I found this sir," he told him weakly as they all gathered round the trunk. In it, lay a bloodied hacksaw, and what looked to be a dozen women's fingers in separate jars.

"Oh God," Lestrade muttered, "Norman Strayhan's trophies."

"I wouldn't say that," Sherlock said as he picked up one of the jars, "John, how fresh do you think this is?"

John put on gloves and took the jar from his friend, staring at it in shock, "Bloody hell, no more than three days."

Lestrade frowned, "Norman Strayhan was found dead three days ago and John said he had been dead nearly a week."

"That's because Norman Strayhan isn't the killer," Sherlock told him, "He was killed because he found out who the real killer was."

Lestrade frowned at him, not following.

"Think!" Sherlock told him, "The plaster dust, the same plaster dust and concrete that Strayhan worked with, all the victims look exactly like his wife…"

Lestrade frowned, still not following.

"Mrs. Strayhan was killing women that looked like her. She is the killer."

"Bloody hell," Lestrade muttered as he un-holstered his weapon and ran back in the house, John and Sherlock close behind.

They entered the living room to find two officers with their guns drawn as Mrs. Strayhan was standing, holding a knife to a frightened looking Donovan's neck.

"Took you idiots long enough," she spat before she looked at Sherlock and John, "And you are supposed to be the savant of crime?"

"Knew it all along," Sherlock told her.

She laughed, "No, you didn't. I had you fooled. I had all of Scotland Yard fooled."

"Then how come I figured it out?" Sherlock asked, "You are caught, you have no where to go."

"That's where you are wrong," She told him, "She's my ticket out, and you'll let me go, otherwise I'll spill her blood all over this kitchen." 

"No, you're not," Sherlock said confidently, causing even Lestrade to glance at him.

"You only kill women who look like you, because you hate yourself. You hate that your husband wouldn't even touch you. The furniture arrangement makes that obvious. You killed women to get back at him. Killing yourself over and over, trying to end your own misery. You loved him; but love is arbitrary. He loved his art. Didn't make time for you and that's why you can only kill your metaphorical self. Not Sergeant Donovan."

Mrs. Strayhan looked at him, her expression faded as her eyes darted around.

"Put the knife down," Lestrade said as he realized that Sherlock was right. He wouldn't harm his next in charge.

Mrs. Strayhan shoved Donovan at the DI and took off out the door as officers, Sherlock and John took after her.

Sherlock took the lead with his long strides before he managed to grab her arm that held the knife, shoving her up against one of the police cars, pinning her there as the knife dropped out of her hand and onto the ground.

"No where to run," Sherlock whispered to her as the officers took over, putting her in cuffs as he walked away.

"ITS JUST BEGINNING SHERLOCK HOLMES. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS COMING FOR YOU!" she yelled at him as she was put in the back of the police car.

"Bit of a psycho,"" John commented as they both caught their breath.

"Case was far too easy," Sherlock complained as they walked towards the street, looking for a cab.

"Easy?" John asked, "She had you going too until you found the fingers!"

"Of course not," Sherlock scoffed to his friend, "I knew."

"No you didn't," John told him.

Sherlock just glared at his friend as a cab slowed to pick them up, "I need a new case, John."

John sighed as he got into the cab as well, "You can't take a day off, can you?"

***&#*( #()**

Madeline smiled to herself as she walked into her flat and removed her jacket.

Today had gone better than she had thought. She was able to scare a multi-million dollar company enough to settle before trial, giving her a hefty paycheck, not to mention, full amusement at the hand of the court.

She poured herself a glass of wine and sat on her couch, unable to wipe the smile off her face.

Success felt good….

She looked at her glass of wine and the smile faded as memories came rushing back.

_She held a glass of wine in her hand as she sat on the floor by the fire. _

"_Wow, this wine is shit," Sherlock commented as his arm snuck around her, pulling her into his chest. _

_Madeline laughed as she relaxed in his arms, taking a sip of the wine._

"_Yes, but you know, it was only three pounds, and we did just graduate from Uni today. We can't afford to breath let alone buy actually good wine."_

"_Oh yeah, student debt," he said sarcastically as his fingers made their way up her sides. _

_Madeline laughed as she took comfort in his touch, "And to think that Mycroft got out debt free."_

"_Mycroft also didn't get disowned from the family," he muttered as he took another sip of the wine._

_Madeline felt her smile fade as she looked at the ground, guilt eating at her._

"_What?" _

"_Do you… do you ever think that things would be different with your family, if you had never met me?" she asked quietly, looking up at him. _

_He looked at her for a moment, his face completely void of expression. _

"_No, they wouldn't," he told her firmly, "because I wouldn't be nearly a good of a person if I hadn't met you."_

_Madeline felt tears come to her eyes as she set down her wine, pulled his out of his hands, and crawled into his lap, kissing him as he had never been kissed before…_

RING RING RING

Her phone awoke her out of her thoughts, causing her to blink a few times to come back to the real world.

_God, she had to stop this…_

RING RING RING

She took a deep breath and glanced at the blocked number before picking up.

"Hello?"

"Miss Everling, I believe a congratulations is due for your settlement today," a smooth voice said on the other end of the line that made ever hair on the back of her neck stand up.

"Excuse me?" she asked, "Who is this?"

"Richard Brook," the man calmly responded, "Though I see I didn't make as quite the impression as you left on me."

"Mr. Brook," Madeline responded, wondering to herself how he had gotten her personal number. She needed to make sure that the office knew not to give it out, "What can I do for you? It is quite late."

"Its only seven, Miss Everling."

"Yes, but you see, I am at home. Not the office."

"I didn't realize that you differentiated between the two."

Madeline's stomach turned. There was something deeply wrong with this.

"I was just calling to make sure that you block yourself out on the 16th," he told her calmly.

"Why, do you have a meeting you'll need me for?" she asked.

Mr. Brook laughed on the other end of the line, "Oh no, but I will be needing legal assistance, and I believe I only get one phone call."

"Mr. Brook, if you are planning something criminal, I cannot be of service to you."

"Oh, yes you can."

Madeline froze.

"I have to report it to the police," she told him, "I am a servant of the court."

"You are the best of the best. You play the court like a fiddle. And you can't report me because no crime has been committed, nor am I guilty of anything. I simply know that I will be under complete suspicion."

"Well then why don't you tell me now?" she asked.

"Oh, no! That would spoil the surprise!"

Madeline felt another chill go through her.

"And if I refuse? If I pass your case onto someone else?"

The man laughed once more, "Oh, you wont…"

The other end of the line went dead as Madeline sat in shock in her living room, looking at her phone in astonishment.

What just happened?

**Review? Pretty please? Let me know how you love or hate this series?**


	9. Chapter 9

**A HUGE thanks to all my reviewers! Seriously, you guys are so awesome! I've been struggling a bit with this story as it doesn't seem to be as popular as my other one, but I still adore it, so thanks so much for your guys' encouraging words!**

**Newtofanfic: Wow… thanks so much, seriously, that's a HUGE compliment. I really REALLy appreciate that. Honestly, thanks so much. **

**Gwilwillith: thanks so much my dear!**

**WinchesterDixonBros: Thanks so much my dear! I am so glad that you are enjoying it! **

**Hannahhobnob: Thanks so much!  
**

**Homesickalieen: hahaha sorry… but theres more revealed this chapter! But thanks so much my dear!  
**

**Here you guys go! More is revealed! Enjoy!**

Sherlock flipped through something on his laptop, nearly slamming the keys down as he did so. John raised an eyebrow at his friend as he paused writing up the case they had literally just gotten back from. He knew that with Sherlock in this mood, he couldn't leave him alone, so he may as well write up the case while it was fresh in his mind.

Sherlock suddenly slammed his laptop shut and stood up quickly, crossing the living room and walking over to the stack of papers and magazines they constantly seemed to acquire. Flipping through each and every one of them before tossing the used ones to the floor in a chaotic flourish.

John sighed as he watched his flat mate in an unamused anguish as he knew he would have to clean that up later.

Sherlock tore through the last paper and let out a loud groan of frustration before putting his head in his hands.

"Why don't you take a moment or two?" John asked as he kept typing, "I mean we _literally _just got back from a case. You at least should eat something…."

"I need a case John," Sherlock told him, "My mind, it never stops."

John stopped typing and looked at him from around his laptop, "You always sleep and eat after a case. Always."

"I don't _always_ do anything," Sherlock snapped as he got up and grabbed his phone, flipping through what John assumed was the news once more.

"Yes," John said nodding, "Yes you do. If you aren't a creature of habit, I don't know who is."

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes as he continued to ignore his friend.

"Only one thing has changed," John noted as he turned back to his computer.

Sherlock slammed his fist down on the table, "Nothing has changed, John. Nothing."

"Yeah, alright," John replied, not buying it for a moment.

They sat in silence as Sherlock stared broodily at his phone, upset that there wasn't a new breaking case to catch his attention.

"You do know that keeping yourself busy with cases and such isn't going to make Madeline go away," John commented after a moment.

Sherlock straightened angrily, "That's not what this is about," he snapped.

John laughed slightly, "Of course its not."

Sherlock sent him a glare.

"Look, maybe you should give her the papers. You already signed them. It may help you close the door if you want it closed. If you don't, go shag her already."

Sherlock snapped as he walked over to John, grabbing the papers in the manila folder off the table before slamming John's laptop shut in a childish manner before storming off into his room like a four-year old; slamming the door behind him.

John shut his eyes and cursed at the dark-haired detective silently before pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was at a complete loss at what to do. He never in a million years would have guessed he would have to do deal with this with Sherlock Holmes as a best friend and flat mate.

***&#*( &#(**

Sherlock leaned against his bedroom door and threw the manila folder on the floor in anger.

He hated this.

He hated that his mind was constantly suffering and struggling with a certain green-eyed brunet. Her being away had allowed him to ignore feeling and memories and bury them deep down inside of himself. But now that she was back….? It was a whole different struggle.

Everything was bubbling to the surface. Everything that had taken him six years to put away…

They had too much history. Far too much history.

He should have just looked away that damn day in the library. He would have never met her….

_Sherlock sat in the town's small library after school, trying to focus on reading the biochemistry book in front of him as his mind wanted to wander. _

_He had to train himself to focus. He knew that. It had been harped through his head since he was a small child. He had to focus and have better focus than everyone else if he wanted to succeed. _

_Someone running into a nearby bookshelf brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a girl his age in the same school uniform, holding a stained kitchen towel to her forehead, as she cursed at her inability to see because of it. _

_He looked at her curiously. He had seen her walking quickly past him towards the hardware store on his way to the library as she apparently had become the new target of the twits who bothered him in class nearly every day, but he didn't recall seeing her with the bleeding cut above her eyebrow that she was trying to clean up and get to stop bleeding. _

_Her eyes were puffy and slightly red as if she had been crying and hurriedly tried to compose herself. _

_He didn't know why he kept watching her as she was looking through the section he had previously picked over. Her fingers traced the spine of each book as she looked for one in particular, pausing over the gap in the bookshelf. _

"_Dammit," she cursed as her shoulders slumped as if it had just added to her day. She stiffened before she turned and looked at him, obviously feeling his eyes on her. _

"_What?" she snapped at him, "You want to make a comment?" she asked._

"_Uh, no," he said with non-chalance as he tried to look away, but couldn't. He didn't know why she was interesting to him… but she was._

_She looked at him strangely for a moment before her eyes traveled down to the book in front of him, her posture deflating once more as she realized that he was the one who had the book that she wanted. _

"_Can you at least hurry up with that book?" she asked in a sort of catty tone, "I was sort of in the middle of reading it." _

_Sherlock scoffed at her as he turned back to the book, igniting her temper once more. _

"_What?" she asked raising an eyebrow at him and folding her arms, "Just because I am the daughter of the town whore, doesn't mean that I can't read."_

…_.that's why those twits were saying that stuff to her. Now, that made sense…_

_He looked up at her, raising an eyebrow at her, "You aren't even in this class." _

"_Well, neither are you since biochem isn't offered," she countered. _

_He just stared at her for a moment, "Do you even know what biochemistry is?" he asked, "You're a first year. You haven't even taken Biology or Chemistry."_

"_Um, yes," she replied, "I know what biochemistry is. It's a bit difficult not to, since its purely described in its name. And you are a first year too by the looks of you, and I don't see it being an issue for you."_

"_I got put in the advanced class," he told her smugly, "I took Biology last year and am in chemistry now."_

"_You got moved up?" she scoffed. _

"_Why, you didn't?" he bit back. _

_She frowned for a moment before sarcastically responding, "Oh, a feather in your bloody cap."_

"_Well, at least I actually understand the material that they are talking about in this book," he countered. _

"_And I don't?" the girl bit back._

"_No, you haven't taken the courses. I have."_

"_Just because I haven't taken a 'course' on it, doesn't mean I haven't taught myself. I spend a lot of time in libraries across Britain."_

_Sherlock didn't respond to her comment. He was usually the only one who was constantly in here every day. He preferred it here. It was better than home. _

_He frowned at her as she suddenly yanked the chair across from him out that he had been using as a footstool, causing his feet to fall to the floor loudly, before she plopped herself down in the chair across from him. _

_He stared at her as if she had grown a third head as she wrapped one arm around her thin frame and the other pressed the towel into the gash and quickly bruising gash in her forehead. _

"_If you aren't going to give me the book, I'm going to sit here until you are done with it," she told him firmly. _

_He raised an eyebrow at her, "I just started…"_

"_I have all day. I cant go home and have no where else to go," she told him with a smile. _

_He glared at her as he shrugged, looking back down at the book. She leaned forward and stared at him intently. _

_He squirmed under her gaze. It was extremely distracting to have a girl staring at him constantly. He glanced up at her a few times, causing her to smile even more, knowing she was succeeding. _

"_You wont even understand it," he snapped at her, not being able to handle her staring at him even more. _

"_Try me," she challenged. _

_He shut the book and looked at her. _

"_How does blood act as a buffer?" he asked. _

"_Easy," she replied with a smirk, "Bicarbonate in the blood can either make the blood more acid or more basic depending on the needs of the body. And that's more physiology than biochemistry, don't you think?" _

_Sherlock stared at her for a moment. He doubted anyone in the school knew that with the exception of the teachers, himself, and his brother… let alone the new girl in town whose mother was causing rumors to fly. _

_She smirked at him before he felt a smirk of his own cover his face. _

"_Oh, look," one of the boys who was following the girl earlier said as he walked over, "Look at the whore and 'Sherly'. The two weirdos of the town found each other."_

_Sherlock rolled his eyes as the group of boys walked over to them, laughing loudly in the quiet library before his eyes fell on the girl across from him quickly trying to cover her cut and hide her face in embarrassment, causing him to frown at her slightly. _

"_You should ask her to get you off now Sherly," the boy told him, "I mean you'll only get action that you pay for and she and her mom are dirt cheap," he said causing the boys to roar with laughter._

"_Go away Devon," Sherlock told him boredly as he peeled his eyes off the girl and looked back down at his book. _

"_Ooh," Devon said, waving his fingers sarcastically, "You have to 'study'? Don't have any friends to go play with on the playground you belong on? Oh, that's right. You are too busy having your nose buried in a book to have a friend other than your books."_

_Sherlock looked up at him, unimpressed, "Don't you have a boyfriend to go shag?" he asked. _

_The group went silent as they boy's face fell for a second before showing anger, "You think I'm gay?"_

_Well, that's because you are," he replied._

"_I'm not…" the boy began._

"_Specific brand of underwear above the waistline, product in your hair, low cut shirt," Sherlock said raising an eyebrow at him. _

"_That, and when your mates are laughing at you attempt to bully the both of us, they miss you looking them up and down and undressing them with your eyes," he finished. _

_The boys went silent and stepped away from Devon, as the boys face turned bright red. _

"_I… I'm… I'm not!" he tried to object. _

"_By the look of fear and embarrassment on your face, you should maybe stop taunting the lady about what you believe to be her mother's profession and maybe go into London looking for a male associate in that supposed profession."_

_The girl snorted with laughter before the boy just looked at them, completely red-faced before he stormed out of the library, the rest of the group silently disbanding. _

_The girl turned back to Sherlock after the boys had left, looking at him curiously, "Why have you never said that to him before to get him to back off?" she asked softly, "He obviously has a habit of taunting you as well, and you've obviously seen that happening for a while."_

_Sherlock shrugged, "I just ignore it. I don't really care what they say, but it was obviously bothering you."_

_She stared at him for a moment in silence. _

"_Thank you," she said softly, "No one has ever done that for me before." _

_He looked at her as a strange warmth flowed through him. He had never experienced anything like this before… it was strange…_

_He nodded at her, before fidgeting with a piece of paper on the table. _

"_Where are all your friends?" she asked quietly after a moment, looking around. _

"_I don't have friends," he told her, "I find people to be boring."_

_She looked at him for a moment, curiously, as if she were trying to figure him out. _

"_Well, I have to say, I couldn't agree more," she smiled at him, "People really are the worst, aren't they?" _

_Sherlock looked up at her in slight shock at her words, causing her to smile even more as she brushed her straight hair out of her eyes before pressing the cloth back into the cut on her forehead. _

… _By God… she was actually serious…. _

_He felt a smile come over his face and a slight chuckle escape him. _

"_Yes, they really are," he responded before looking at her for a moment longer, shutting the book and pushing it towards her. _

_She looked at him in slight surprise, "You're done with it?"_

"_No," he smiled as he got up and walked over to the shelf and grabbing a large looking physiology book off the shelf, "but I cant let a girl who hasn't even taken biology yet question my authority in the field," he told her as he walked back over to the table, retaking his seat, and opening the book as he got out a fresh sheet of paper, "I guess I have some brushing up to do instead." _

_A smile came over the girl's face, causing him to blush slightly as the strange warmth returned. _

"_And I'll have to catch up with you in chemistry," she smiled back at him. _

_The two fell into a comfortable silence for a moment or two before the girl extended her hand. _

"_I'm Madeline Everling, by the way," she told him. _

_He took her hand, and smiled at her as he shook it, "Sherlock Holmes."_

He sighed and plopped himself down on the bed, putting his head in his hands as he tried to stop the memories of her playing over and over again in his head.

If he had just looked away, she would have never felt his gaze, or realized that he had had that damn biochemistry book in the first place. He would have never spoken to her, and he wouldn't be dealing with this shit in the first place.

…_your entire life would be different… completely different. You probably wouldn't be alive right now… you know that._

He opened his eyes and cursed himself as the manila envelope on the floor caught his eye.

Why was he holding on to her? Why did he want to shove her away and hold her at the same time? She had ignored him for 6 years other than the random letter in the mail asking him to sign the papers. He would take back that night in a heat beat.. but she knew he had needed her more than ever… and she just left.

She abandoned him, like she had promised she never would.

Promised him…

Why was she doing this to him? He should just give her the papers and shove her out of his life for good.

_You can't do that… you know you cant…_

Logic told him to, but when it came to her; he had always lost all logic. Always…

She was by far the most dangerous drug to him, and she had gotten back into his system.

***&^(*&( #***

Madeline smiled and nodded at Milo as she sat in her living room, nursing a glass of wine. After her phone call with Mr. Brook, she had called her best friend and his boyfriend to come over for a drink. The last thing she wanted was to be alone like she always was tonight, but she didn't want to let on that her mind was spinning and she was drowning in her thoughts, fears, and memories.

Milo was currently telling a funny story about his last shoot and Madeline was smiling, laughing and nodding, but she couldn't even hear him talking as her mind raced.

_What in the hell did Brook want her for?_

_How in the hell did he know he was going to be accused of something that he wasn't guilty of?  
_

_He had to be planning something…_

_But what? _

_Hell, she didn't even know who this guy was._

_How did he know the 16__th__?_

"Madeline!"

Her head snapped towards Liam, who was looking at her with an eyebrow raised.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah!" Madeline said as she put a smile on her face, brushing a curl out of her face as she curled her feet underneath her.

"You've been acting weird ever since you called us to come over," Liam told her.

"Yeah! I'm fine!" she told him, "I just wanted to see you guys! I mean Milo got his own studio, you got a job at a major fashion magazine, and I just had my first case here in London. It's a cause to celebrate with a bottle of wine."

"Really?" Liam said, seeing right through her, "Because you look as if you have seen a ghost, and you've been staring at the fire and nodding your head instead of inputting with sarcastic remarks like you always do."

Madeline frowned at him. _Damn him…_

"You're a good faker," Milo told her with a smile, "But you aren't _that_ good."

Madeline sighed and looked down at her wine, tracing the rim of the glass with a finger.

"Is this about You-know-who?" Liam asked blatantly, like he always did.

"For the last time," Madeline sighed, "My ex-husband is not Lord Voldemort."

"Still current husband," Milo pointed out as he took a sip of wine.

Madeline glared at him and sighed, "Thank you Milo."

"Welcome," he smiled at her cheekily.

"Let me guess," Liam said as he ran a hand through his stylish hair he prided himself in, "You have been seeing him and you are getting more and more feelings brought up each and every time?"

Madeline didn't answer. That wasn't why she had called him, but Lord knows that man was constantly on her mind.

Liam set down his wine and leaned forward, pulling the wine from her hands, setting on the table before he grabbed both of her hands, looking her in the eyes, "Maddie, I love you. That man, does not deserve you. He hit you. I don't care what damn excuse you have for that bastard. He laid a hand on you, and I'll be damned if I let you go back to him and have you be a punching bag."

She looked at him and blinked tears out of her eyes before looking back at her friend, "He hit me one time Liam," she told him quietly, "He was high out of his mind. He didn't realize what he was doing." 

"I don't care if he was so hopped up, he had unicorns flying out of his ass," Liam told her, "He hit you. You can't go back to him. You can't trust him." 

Madeline looked at him as that night replayed over again in her head. She could still see the look on his face….

"He still lied to you, sweetheart," Milo chimed in.

"Exactly," Liam nodded, "You don't need to settle darling. You deserve someone better."

Madeline nodded before she pulled out of Liam's grasp and grabbed her wine, wiping a tear before it could fall.

"You guys never met him," she told them, "He's exactly what I deserve."

"You deserve to be beaten and thrown to the curb?" Liam asked.

Madeline glared at him. 

"Oh God," Milo sighed, "She's in love with him still."

"No," Madeline told him firmly.

…_that's a flat out lie…_

"Oh my God, you are," Liam said looking at the ceiling and shaking his head in frustration, "I thought we got you over this!"

"I am," she told them as she took a large gulp of wine, "You two just don't know half the story that happened between us. He's not the only party at fault for me leaving. It takes two people to build a relationship, and it also takes two people to destroy one." 

"You aren't to blame Maddie," Liam told her.

Madeline shook her head, "No, like I said, I haven't told you guys most of the story. I only have told you bits when you get me plastered enough to talk about it."

Milo raised and eyebrow at her, "Well, why don't you tell us the entire story?" he asked, "that way you get it off your chest, and we can help you through it?"

Madeline smiled at the calmer and more logical of the couple, "I'd rather not talk about it. I think about it enough and I don't need to talk about it more." 

"Have you even told anyone the entire story?" Liam asked, slightly annoyed that he didn't know the full gossip.

"One person other than Sherlock and I know the complete story, and that's only because I had to tell him. And I'd like to keep it that way," she told them, "Thank you though."

Milo nodded respectively as Liam just raised an eyebrow at her, looking to pull more information from his friend.

"But…" he began before Milo cut him off.

"Liam, leave it."

Madeline smiled at him in thanks before looking at Liam, "So why don't you tell me all the dirt you hear at the magazine?" Madeline asked as she got up to fetch more wine, "I'm looking for a new case after all."

Liam laughed before finishing his glass as well, "You would not believe this one train-wreck I work with…."

Liam began some story of this girl that he worked with dating two guys at the same time, one proposing the week prior, and the other taking her on a fancy trip the next, as Madeline poured another glass of wine.

She tried her best to listen to the story as she tried her damndest to get her mind off the worst and best memories of the dark-haired detective that she had as well as her earlier chilling conversation she had with Brook.

Little did she know what was in store just a little ways up the road….

**Okay, just so everyone is clear, the scene at the lib happened immediately after the last flashback of Madeline when she was a child. Hopefully you all got that, but I just wanted to be clear. **

… **also… half the story hasn't been told… so bare with me for a while. **

**Review? Please? **


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